Hate
by iLoveMeSomeCaptainAmerica
Summary: Clary is trying to forget, but how can she when her past is coming to get her? After she loses her best friends, her life begins to fall apart. With no one else, Jace, the boy she can't stand, is the only one who can pick up the pieces. . . Everyone could see that they hated each other, but what they couldn't see was that they loved each other more than anything in the world.
1. Prologue

_Prologue:_

**~Clary~**

I hated him.

Everything about him.

From his oh so glorious golden locks, to that ring he wore around his neck, to his letterman jacket that he wore nearly every day, right down to his Nike clad feet. Whereas most girls giggled whenever he smirked or made a witty remark, I gagged. Or at least I wanted to.

He was clever, yet he dove into trouble headfirst.

He paraded around in a sleek black Mercedes and always parked it diagonally, taking up two damn lots, so that no harm would come to his "baby".

He had the most touchdowns in all of Alicante High School history and because of it people bowed down at his feet––as if his ego weren't big enough. I absolutely hated having to hear his name being chanted in the stands whenever I was dragged to a game.

Arrogance radiated off of him. He was hot and he knew it.

If I knew anything was certain, it was that I hated Jace Wayland.

* * *

**~Jace~**

I hated her.

Everything about her.

How her quiet reserve disappeared whenever she was angry or excited, and how she acted as if there was a stick up her ass whenever it came to learning_._

I hated those big green eyes that looked at everyone, but me, with kindness. I hated her mass of fiery hair that was the thickest thing about her and the dusting of freckles all over her face.

She pretended to be oblivious of all of the stares guys gave her whenever she walked by, and it made me contemplate on whose neck I wanted to ring more, her's or theirs.

It unnerved me whenever she came to one of my games and that I had to sit by her in history.

I hated how she drove to school everyday in that massive blue truck and parked it directly across from me. How she was smacking on a salt water taffy every time I saw her.

Oh yeah, I hated Clary Fairchild. It was a fact.

* * *

**Okay people, listen up! I know that many of you will avoid this, but it's really important and it will only take two seconds!**

**I am now the owner of this story and I'm really sorry if you're disappointed that the original author won't be continuing it. I am combining "Hate" with a story I just began writing, therefore I'm rewriting "Hate" so that it fits my style and so that I can add important details for future chapters! I love drama, mystery, betrayal, horror, and ROMANCE, so that's just what I'll write about.**

**If you want to read the original first nine chapters that musicluver008 has beautifully written, just PM me. Go favorite musicluver008 because she's amazing!**

**I hope that I don't disappoint any of you and I will be updating on a regular basis!**

**Feel free to send me any suggestions or concerns. AND I'm really sorry I promised a few of you that I'd post these by Friday...just a day late. Sorry.**


	2. The Bitch That is Karma

**_Disclaimer: I do not own any of Cassandra Clare's characters, just the plot(:_**

* * *

_The Bitch that is Karma:_

**~Clary~**

Still sucking on a piece of taffy, I slammed my car door shut and rushed over to the passenger side, cursing loudly.

"No, no, no!"

A large screw was sticking out my front tire. Air was rushing out of it in a steady stream and the tire was shrinking by the second, deforming like a popped balloon. A very important, expensive popped balloon.

And not only was I going to be late to school, but it looked like it was going to start raining cats and dogs at any second.

_Damn._

It was days like these when I wished my mom still drove me to school. Stupid tire. _Stupid tire_...

Groaning, I pulled my unruly hair out of my face and kicked the side of my truck at least three times. I let my eyes wander down the road. Not another car in sight. "Great!"

I _was_ going to finish an exam I missed last Friday and possibly grab a Gatorade from the vending machine, but oh no. I was lucky if I even made it to school now.

I whipped out my cellphone from my back pocket and punched in Simon's number. Knowing him, he was probably at school already, but if he wanted me to go to his band rehearsal tonight, he'd have no other choice but to come and get me. "Answer your phone Simon," I hissed after it went to voicemail. I leaned against the hood of my truck and let my fist pound against the metal to keep myself from screaming. I tried him three more times before I averted my attention to my other best friend Isabelle.

Ha. Ha. Voicemail.

The girl was on her phone 24/7 but of course, when I needed her most, she didn't answer. I was just about to try her again when I heard tires treading against gravel.

To my relief, a glossy black car was approaching me. I sent my traitorous truck a hateful glare and took a few small steps onto the road, hoping that whoever was driving would be kind enough to stop. The warmth in my stomach immediately grew cold. The glossy black car was a Mercedes. And as it got closer and closer, I could make out Jace Wayland and his smug grin.

Jace was the kind of guy that would run me over for a laugh and I, being the smart girl I am, immediately recoiled back against my truck. The Mercedes pulled up sharply beside me and its tinted window slowly lowered.

"Well, well, well," Jace mused, his eyebrows both raised. "Hold on, stay just like that, let me get my camera––"

"Oh shut up!" I snapped.

He was laughing. That stupid ass. "The only thing that would make this better is if it started raining."

I sighed and looked up, observing the ugly black rain clouds. "Well, it's only a matter of time." And, as if on cue, thunder rumbled across the sky.

"So what's up?"

"'What's up?'" I repeated, imitating his stupid smile. Then I glared. "I've got a flat tire, that's _what's up_."

"Hmm," Jace dragged on, stroking his chin, "interesting."

"You're obviously not going to be any help so why don't you just keep driving!"

Why did it have to be him? Of all the people that have a car, why on earth did it have to be him!

Jace narrowed his gold eyes as his smile grew wider. "Now, what kind of friend would I be if I deprived you from a nice, morning walk?" His windshield wipers began to sweep back and forth to make a point. "I'd offer you the umbrella that I _always_ keep under my seat, but I think you could use a good shower."

I gasped, trembling with anger. "You are such a––"

Jace honked his horn before I could finish. "Language Clarissa," he tsked. "Well, I'd love to stick around, but I have class to get to. Ba-bye!"

With that his Mercedes was speeding off, his laughter echoing in my ears. I slammed my head against my window and regretted it immediately. I felt the first raindrop plop against the side of my face not even two seconds after. I blinked a few times before it began to pour, the rain so thick it was as if it were falling by the buckets.

Now I had to walk three miles in the rain with a throbbing head.

I could call Simon again, or Isabelle, but not if I wanted to ruin the iPhone I got not even a month ago. I grabbed my backpack, seething, and started my long walk to school.

"Oh my God!"

* * *

Finally, upon arriving at St. Xavier's, let's just say I was soaked. I had to change into my PE uniform and call my mom so that she could send me a pass for being late. Of course she was spending the day with her boyfriend Luke and his parents up in Manhattan, so she couldn't drop off another outfit for me. Black running shorts and a grey t-shirt it was...yipee.

Sooner than I hoped, I found myself walking to second period. Not only would I be arriving late, but this was the only class that the devil himself was in. And he sat right in front of me.

I could already feel humiliation coming on.

Deep breath.

I opened the door to Mr. Starkweather's history class. The quiet chatter immediately died down and I felt thirty pairs of eyes land on me. Jace's laughter was very distinct.

Mr. Starkweather didn't seem at all happy to see me. He wore a frown and his bushy gray eyebrows were crinkled together, unamused. By the look on his face you'd think I was a naughty child caught in a devious act, but he always looked like this. Scary, intimidating, mean. Ready to rip you to shreds.

"Mrs. Fairchild, glad you could join us," he said, looking me over, his voice telling me otherwise. I was probably pretty hot right about now. Damp, unbrushed hair already springing to life, no makeup, and skinny chicken legs available for everyone to see...Thanks a lot Jace.

A few people snickered under their breath.

I handed him my late pass and after scanning it over, he tossed it carelessly in the trash positioned right in front of his desk. Mr. Starkweather smiled sharply to the rest of the class and let his gaze flicker back to me. "Do you have your essay Mrs. Fairchild? Or did you forget like rest of the class?"

It took me a second to register what he was asking and then I dropped my sopping wet backpack to the ground and kneeled beside it, my fingers going at the buckle. I pulled out my yellow folder and retrieved the essay that ended up taking me three days to finish. What had once been a beautiful and elegantly written report on the first 13 Amendments, was now three wet pages stuck together decorated in blotchy ink. I felt my heart drop to my stomach. Mr. Starkweather snatched it from my hands and held the embarrassment up like a dirty rag, his face disgusted.

I felt my cheeks burning and my blood boiling.

Now everyone was laughing. "This is your report?" Mr. Starkweather said.

"It was," I said quickly, my voice shaking. I managed to find my feet and stood up. "You see I got a flat tire this morning and then it started to rain and I had to walk––"

He cut me off immediately. "I don't want to hear it."

"But that's what happened––"

His eyebrows raised, "And you understand that this..." he said holding up my report a little higher. "You understand that this essay, Clarissa, is due today? I think you're smart enough to know that you will not be turning _this_ into me."

"What should I do––?"

"Either you can turn it in on Monday for a late grade or you can settle for an F."

I felt my mouth dropping open. I strived for A's. Anything below it made my insides twist––anything below it meant one step back from getting into my dream collage. The last B I ever got was in third grade art when Mrs. Pennelly downgraded me for using more clay than I was given, even though it was the clearly the best thumb-pot in the entire class.

Well there goes my weekend...

I wanted to shout, 'That's not fair!' but my mouth felt as if it had been glued shut.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Take your seat," he snapped. "You've wasted enough of my class already."

I almost took off without my backpack, scared to stay anywhere near him. Then I shuffled to my desk near the back of the room, right behind Jace––ugh, and beside a window. Since today was raining however, Mr. Starkweather had the blinds down. Even juniors got sidetracked by lightning.

As I brushed past Jace and his chair, our eyes met. The gold in them was almost too bright to be real. He wore a very satisfied, smug smile and little huffs of laughter that he couldn't contain escaped his mouth. I rolled my eyes at him and slumped in my seat, glaring daggers at the back of his head.

When Mr. Starkweather went off about the Ratification of the Constitution, Jace twisted around in his seat. "You didn't have to dress up for me," he insinuated. Oh if I could just hit him. He took in my anger with a chuckle. "Is little Miss Perfect upset she won't be getting an A? Hmm?"

"Do you ever get tired of being an asshole?" I hissed. It was wrong to keep egging him on and immature, but...

"You know," he let his face inch forward, "you have some pretty nice chicken legs Fairchild."

I shouldn't of let him get to me, but I self consciously crossed my legs and brought them closer to my chair. Then I crinkled my nose, "You know, you have a pretty fat––"

What I was going to say would've definitely shut him up, but Mr. Starkweather beat me to the punch. "Are you two done flirting?"

My eyes widened involuntarily and I felt my cheeks set fire. Jace even flushed a little and he immediately spun away from me. Everyone was snickering and my friend Ashlee winked at me from across the room. However, everyone also knew that Jace and I both hated each other and the idea of the two of us flirting was outrageous, which made it all the more hilarious.

"We weren't––!" Jace and I sputtered out together.

Mr. Starkweather narrowed his beady eyes. "Hmm. No? Mr. Wayland, Mrs. Fairchild if you two continue to disrupt my class I won't hesitate to give you both detention. Understood?"

I nodded quickly and hid my face with my hair.

The rest of the class went by quickly and when we were dismissed Jace and I stood up at the same time. Our eyes met again and I spun on my heel and went the long way towards the door to avoid any further confrontations with him.

_I hate him. I hate him. I hate him._

"Clary!" A familiar voice shouted from across the hall. I was nearly at my locker and slowed my pace so Isabelle could catch up with me. "Oh good, I thought you were skipping today––you weren't in consumers––what the hell are you wearing? Did you get dress coded or something?" She grabbed a piece of my very curly hair and let it fall back to my side.

I gave her a face. "Nope. A stupid screw popped my tire and your ass of a brother let me walk to school. In. The. _Rain_."

Isabelle's mouth popped open. "Uh! I would've come and got you––if Alec didn't take me to school today. I had to get here early and finish up a project and my mom's car is still getting worked on, so I'm officially car-less for another week––"

"I tried calling you, but It's fine––I'm more mad about that _asshat_. I don't understand how someone can be so..._gahh_!"

Isabelle began to dig around in her pockets and she let out a groan. "How could I have forgot my phone?! I'm sorry Clary. You know I would've had Alec come and get you in a heartbeat."

"I know, I'm fine now...I hate _him_." I don't think I've ever used the word hate to describe my feelings for someone since my father, but Jace...he wasn't a some_one_. He was an evil some_thing_.

"Tell me about it. At least you don't live across the hall from him."

I nodded in agreement, "You're right, but whenever I sleep over he always manages to make my life hell."

"Which is why I always go over to your place," Isabelle emphasized. Then we stopped at my locker so I could replace my history textbook for my calculous one.

"At least I won't have to dress out for gym," I muttered.

"And you still look cute," Isabelle told me. I knew she was lying, but I still smiled my thanks. "So what are we doing tonight?"

"Well I have to redo my history report," I rolled my eyes, my teeth clenched, "but I promised Simon I'd go to his band rehearsal so..."

Isabelle seemed to brighten at the mention of Simon's name. "Can I come?"

"It won't be that exciting, but of course. I know Simon would love it." Isabelle let out a small giggle. "Why don't you just make a move already Iz? It's totally obvious that he's in to you." Though Simon's never actually admitted to me that he liked Isabelle, it was written all over his face.

Isabelle ducked her head to let a few strands of hair cover her face and lowered her voice. "I told you already...I want him to make the first move."

Their relationship was both totally adorable and outright frustrating. I could totally see them together, although he was the hipster-nerd and she was the beautiful fashionista, yet they haven't gotten past ogling at each other from afar.

And how cool would it be to have the two people I loved most in the world be a couple?

"Whatever," I sighed.

Then she was all perky again. "I think I'm going to wear my new shirt."

"The one that wouldn't even fit my six year old neighbor?"

"That's the one."

* * *

Isabelle's house beautiful and took up two residences. It was about the same size as my apartment complex with four stories, not including their basement, in which had a movie theatre. Contained behind a wrought iron gate, the marble mansion was surrounded by a beautiful garden maintained by their personal groundskeepers, and had a fountain at the center of their driveway.

The first time I had ever come over their butler answered the door. At the time I had thought that if I looked hard enough I'd find the queen of England lounging in one of the numerous rooms.

I circled around the fountain and cut the ignition––yes, my mom's boyfriend helped me switch out tires as soon as they got back, so my great blue truck would live to see another day. I followed the stone-path to the front door and rang the doorbell.

Seconds later, the grand mahogany door swung open and a glamourous Isabelle was standing in the doorway. Wearing skinny jeans, six-inch pumps, and a corset-like top, Isabelle looked pretty flashy (like a slut), but that was how she rolled. She didn't even need to dress so revealing to get attention though, guys would drool at her feet if she was wearing a trash bag.

She had long, glossy black hair that reached her waist, piercing brown eyes, the perfect tall, curvy figure, and very sharp features. She was disgustingly beautiful.

"So what do you think?" She asked looking at me with anticipation. But she didn't wait to hear what I had to say. "I think it makes my boobs look great."

"Simon will definitely like it..." She already knew she looked gorgeous.

She was beaming as she shut the door behind her. Her arm linked with mine and we walked towards my truck.

"WHAT THE HELL!" Jace was standing in one of the three garages. It was empty and he was fuming.

Isabelle and I exchanged looks and watched as Jace stormed towards us. "Isabelle! Where the hell is my car?"

Isabelle released a laugh. "Oh...Mom had to take it."

Jace's eyes bugged out of his head. "What? I have a game in thirty minutes! I'm already late––where's your car!"

"It's still here," Isabelle began. Jace was already racing back towards the garage. "But you won't get very far."

At that Jace stopped dead in his tracks. "Why. _Not_."

"It's out of gas."

He did a 180 and threw his hands up in the air. "What! What the hell am I supposed to do! Why didn't you fill up the tank?!"

Isabelle shrugged lazily. "Don't blame me, blame Mom."

Jace looked ready to yank out his hair. He was cursing loudly under his breath until his eyes flashed to me. "Clary––"

Now it was my turn. "Don't even think about asking me for a ride."

"Look I'm sorry about this morning––I'll pay you. _Please_."

I was trying to hold back a laugh. "Well, well, well." I raised my eyebrows knowingly. "I never thought I'd see the day when Jace Wayland got a taste of his own medicine."

He was going to blow his top.

He swallowed back whatever it was he wanted to say and took a deep breath. Sounding very unsure, he said, "Clary...please. I promise I'll never...insult you again?"

I scoffed. "Oh please. What do _you_ think Isabelle?"

Isabelle was smirking. "I think you should leave his sorry ass."

"I think you're right," I said, thoroughly enjoying every second of this. "Karma sure is a bitch, huh Jace?"

If I didn't know any better his expression would've sent me running. I wanted nothing more to see Jace go through what I had to go through, but I wasn't like him. Or I wasn't _that_ much like him. "I'll drive you to your game _if_ you rewrite my history essay," I drawled out. I would've never asked Jace to do my homework if I didn't know how smart he secretly was. Jace received B's without even peaking in his textbooks.

"No way––!"

"No essay, no ride. Take your pick," I intimated.

He took a few seconds to think it through before he cursed under his breath and nodded. "Okay, _fine_."

"Good. It should only take you a couple days, Jace," I teased. "And just an FYI, Mr. Starkweather will notice if you and I have the same report."

* * *

**Expect an update within the next two days! First chapter...what do you guys think? Thanks for all of your amazing reviews!**


	3. Better and Better

_Better and Better:_

**~Clary~**

Although my truck was huge on the outside, the inside was a very different story. The front seat consisted of a bench that could easily fit three people and a dashboard––but there was no way in hell Jace would be sitting anywhere but the backseat.

He looked ridiculous and consumed every inch of the pathetic little booth. His knees were jammed against the backs of the front seats and his head was nearly hitting the ceiling. Whereas Isabelle and I couldn't stop smiling, Jace couldn't stop grumbling and cursing under his breath.

"Can't you drive any faster?" He hissed.

I eyed him through my rearview mirror. "I'm already going above the speed limit for you, which is _way_ more than you deserve."

He huffed and tried to reposition himself but only ended up slamming his head on the roof. Isabelle sputtered out a laugh and rolled her eyes as she examined her nails.

"I can't believe this," Jace growled. "I would've been better off walking."

I shrugged, "You can get out right now, there's nothing stopping you." We were on the same exact road in which I had to pull over this morning. It was a two-way street and very vacant because not a lot of people knew about it, and living in New York, it was a huge time saver when it came to getting to school. "Only three miles if you're up for it."

"This is just unbelievable."

"Hey, you learned a valuable lesson," I smiled. "If you would've given me a ride this morning like a decent person, I wouldn't of had to redo my essay and I would've willingly took you to your game. But because you didn't..."

"Yeah, yeah," he spat. "I bet you a million dollars that you would've done the same thing."

"I may hate you Jace, but I'm not completely heartless. Even if it was you, I would've given you a ride. _You_ left me on this damn road and didn't even give me your damn umbrella that you 'always keep under your seat'."

"Whatever. And I was kidding about the umbrella...no dude just carries one with him."

"Alec does," Isabelle said. "And so does Max."

Max was Isabelle's adorable nine year old brother and Alec was the oldest out of the four. He was a senior this year but whenever I did see him he was always nothing but nice to me.

Sometimes I wondered about how Jace came to live with the Lightwoods; it was obvious he wasn't related. But I tried to think about Jace as little as possible and Isabelle always tried to steer clear of the subject when I brought it up, saying something along the lines of, 'It's not my business to tell.'

"Yeah but Alec is...Alec and Max is an exception. He's still a kid," Jace said.

"Well I learned a lesson too. I bought an umbrella as soon as Luke fixed my truck," I slightly laughed.

"Who's Luke?" Jace asked.

"Why do you care?"

"I don't. Just asking."

"He's my mom's boyfriend." Luke and my mom have been together for nearly two years. They met when we moved into our apartment three years ago. Luke's bookshop was directly across the street and next to my mom's art classes. They bumped into each other and I guess really hit it off, though they had only been good friends in the beginning.

"What the hell?" Jace suddenly exclaimed.

I raised both of my eyebrows and looked at him through my rearview mirror.

"You have like fifty pounds of salt water taffy back here," he said. He was looking at one of the many secret stashes I had in one of the back seat pockets. I also had another stash in my locker, my backpack, and under my bed.

"Yeah, so."

Isabelle laughed. "She's obsessed. She doesn't even appreciate the clothes I buy her, but she'd love me forever if I gave her a bag full of taffy."

"I would––appreciate the clothes, I mean," I said, "If they actually covered some of my body."

"Is this all you eat?" Jace asked, already plopping a piece in his mouth.

"Hey! My car, my taffy. Keep your hands_ off_."

He rolled his eyes and muttered, "No wonder you're so crazy."

"Come again?" I snapped but he kept his focus on the road ahead.

I was surprised that Jace was silent for the rest of the car ride. It was not in his nature to be quiet, but I didn't complain and neither did Isabelle. As soon as we arrived at St. Xavier's High School, I drove around back to drop Jace off by the lockers. He struggled with the door, but he was retrieving his football gear from the bed in as little as ten seconds.

He was very determined to get inside, but I wasn't about to let him go without a thank you. I rolled down my window and called, "You're welcome!"

Any considerable person would've turned around and expressed their gratitude, but Jace held up his middle finger and kept walking. "You totally should've made him walk," Isabelle shook her head in disgust.

"Have fun writing my essay jerk!" I shouted at him before turning to Isabelle and nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I know. I just hope it pays up in the future."

* * *

**~Isabelle~**

To say I was anxious was an understatement. I knew that I was only going to Simon's band rehearsal, but we'd be forced to talk to each other eventually, especially if I wanted to speed things up between us.

My crush on Simon really took me by surprise. He was definitely out of the ordinary and not at all like the boys I usually dated, but I think that's why he was so special. Simon, I know, would be an awesome boyfriend. He always put others before him and he didn't care about the things guys usually cared about (sex, getting drunk, partying, sex––although that's what I mostly cared about...)

Clary introduced us two years ago. At first he was just the skinny, tall boy with glasses that wore gamer tees and had a ten o'clock curfew. But the last semester of Sophomore year I got put into wood shop. I was surrounded by people I barely knew who wore overalls on a regular basis. Of course I had wanted to take jewelry or theatre, but with my luck I was subjected to nine weeks of torture.

But Simon also ended up being in that class. All he had been to me was Clary's other best friend that sat with us at lunch occasionally, but he ended up sitting next to me in shop and helped me get a strong A. Throughout the semester, he just go cuter and cuter. He made me laugh like nobody could and made me completely forget that I was in a smelly room with sharp tools hanging everywhere. And I knew for certain that I had it bad for him when he helped me study for finals later that year.

Clary tells me all the time that he likes me, but it's obvious he's not going to make a move. Whenever I talked to him, he was only interested in telling me about Call of Duty or some other video game. Not very romantic. And unlike other boys, Simon makes me nervous, so I certainly wasn't going to make a move either.

I might be paranoid, but Simon seemed to always be looking at Clary...I couldn't figure it out but it was obvious that Clary loved Simon as if he were her brother.

"Here," Clary announced, snapping me out of my reverie . There were four other cars parked along the street and I could make out an open garage in the distance. I've only been to Simon's place about seven times, but it was fairly easy to get to and it was the only house on the block with a white picket fence bordering the front lawn. Mrs. Lewis, Simon's mother was big about keeping her two-story residence neat and up to par.

Clary parked across from his house and we hopped out together. Clary had to nearly jog in order to keep up with me. Even in heels I could walk twice as fast as any ordinary person. It probably had something to do with my super long legs.

I towered over Clary's tiny five foot frame. Sometimes it bothered me that I was so tall, but it also made me stand out, and, once when I was at the mall some modeling agent gave me his card. It also helped when it came to boys; my lips were right where they needed to be.

Poor Clary had to use stepping stool. When she dated Sebastian Verlac last year she had to stand on her tiptoes just to be able to be at eye level with his chin.

"Aren't you cold?" Clary asked in near disbelief, arms wrapped around her stomach. It was true, I wasn't wearing much of a shirt, but I barely noticed the cold––how could I when Simon was only yards away? I squared my shoulders and twisted my lips in a semi-fake confident smile.

"Only a little, but I'm more excited than anything." Lie.

Clary puffed out a laugh and rolled her eyes. "I wish I was you when it came to boys."

I wasn't about to tell Clary I was nervous as hell, so instead I just gave her a grateful smile. "You look great Iz," Clary said.

"Do you think Simon will notice?"

"Oh my God, for the last time, yes!" Clary rolled her eyes. "You'd stand out at a Lady Gaga concert."

As we made our way up Simon's driveway––with various instruments in use coming from the garage––I came to a conclusion. I didn't want to wait for him anymore. I wanted him to know how I felt about him tonight. "Clary...?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think you could...possibly talk to Simon for me?"

She was furrowing her eyebrows. "Isabelle––I can't. It wouldn't be right. Why can't you––?"

"Clary, please, please, please, please, please!"

I gave her my undeniable puppy dog eyes and she groaned. "Iz––"

"Please Clary! You're his best friend, it'd be fine! He'd be more open with you––"

"Bull. I-I––just man-up and talk to him yourself!"

I pulled her towards the porch, out of sight from the garage, before any of the band members could spot us. I clasped my hands together and pushed out my bottom lip. If she didn't give in, I'd get down on my knees. "Please Clary! Don't you love me?"

She looked up and sighed. "Don't you dare use that on me––"

"Clary!"

"Ugh––fine!" She nearly shouted in exasperation. "Gee I'm doing a lot of good deeds today."

I let out a squeal and threw my arms around her. "Just ask him who he likes––don't tell him I like him until he says that he likes me––make sure you sorta give him a hint, but don't be too obvious––"

She held up her hands. "Iz. I got it."

"You're the best! I'm so taking you shopping tomorrow!"

"Great," she mumbled.

* * *

**~Clary~**

Simon's garage was packed with different instruments. If his mom was here instead of his dad she would've never let his band rehearse at her house, it was too 'messy and clustered.'

Simon was currently tuning his guitar and Eric, his next door neighbor was "testing" his drums as loud as he possibly could. Matt and Kurt, two gawky dudes with a lot of hair were practicing the piano and breathing into two of the microphones.

"Hi!" I shouted over the noise in oder make our presence noticed. But not one of the guys could hear me. "HELLO!"

Everything was cut off abruptly and Eric dropped his drumsticks as soon as he saw Isabelle. "You didn't tell us she was going to be here," Eric said to Simon, practically drooling.

"She didn't tell me either," Simon smiled, making his way towards us. "Clary, Isabelle."

"Hey Simon," I said casually. I waited for Isabelle to say something, but she stayed silent beside me.

"Let me get you guys some chairs from the kitchen," Simon said.

"Your mom's gonna kill you if she finds out."

"I know, but she's gonna be gone for another three days...thank God." With a friendly nod he disappeared into his house.

"Are you ladies thirsty?" Matt asked. The resemblance between Matt and Shaggy from _Scooby Doo_ was almost uncanny.

"Yeah, sure," Isabelle said. Isabelle was constantly wearing a flirtatious smile without even knowing it. It was why so many dudes thought they had a shot with her.

"I'm okay," I said.

Matt made his way through the maze of chords and reached the mini fridge positioned on the corner of Mr. Lewis's work station. Inside was about twelve cans of Coke stacked tightly together. He retrieved a can and was about to throw it to Isabelle before he thought better of it and walked it over to her instead.

"Thanks," Isabelle said. It was obvious she's never associated with any of Simon's band members before. Two weeks ago she thought that Eric was the janitor and asked him to clean up her applesauce she'd accidentally spilled on the floor. If it had been anyone else, Eric would've flipped them off, but because it was Isabelle, the girl he practically worshiped, he did it without hesitation. I eventually told her who he was and she was genuinely surprised.

There was a loud bang as Simon opened the door to his house. He let out a grunt as he was juggling two barstools in his hands and trying to get through the door at the same time.

"Have you ever heard of taking two trips?" I said as he struggled to get down the steps.

"Just sit down," he breathed setting the two stools down a little ways from the "stage" his band set-up.

* * *

About an hour of playing––very badly––the boys were all ready to take a break and my ears were still trying to adjust. The entire time Isabelle and I talked about what I'd say to Simon. She gushed about how adorable he was when he sang and how he kept smiling at her when he was in the middle of a song.

Simon was drinking from a water bottle a little isolated from the rest of the band and Isabelle saw this as the perfect opportunity for me to talk to him. She nudged my stomach and I gave her a look.

"Please."

"Okay," I sighed and jumped down from the stool with a numb butt. I slowly approached him. Because Simon was Simon, this was going to be so awkward. "Hey. You guys are really coming together."

Simon turned around beaming. "Don't lie. We're awful."

"You guys will get better," I assured him. "But I really think you guys should reconsider the name." They were currently called the Flying Monkeys on Fire...

"Hmm, I don't know if Eric or Kurt would agree." He laughed slightly and let his eyes flicker over to Isabelle. "It's not like I mind but Isabelle never comes to our rehearsals."

Oh boy. "Yeah...she actually wanted to come to support you."

"_Me_?"

"Of course."

He acted as if he were oblivious. "So anyways...I know someone that likes you."

"Really?" Simon smiled instantly. "Who?"

"Well...she's a really good friend of yours...and really pretty and smart...and funny..."

"_Finally_," Simon exclaimed, "I knew it!"

"So you know who likes you?" At this point I was positive that he knew about Isabelle. "If you need another hint...she's in this garage right now."

"I was actually going to talk to you about..._this_...tonight. That's why I wanted you to come so badly."

Wait. What?

"_Me_?"

Simon drew his eyebrows together. "I'm confused. I thought you liked me."

"No! No. I was talking about Isabelle."

"_Isabelle_ likes me?"

I hit his chest and widened my eyes. "You're kidding right? How can you not see it––I thought _you_ liked _her_?"

Simon let out a deep breath. "Well this is bad...Clary, I like _you_...I always have...I thought that you felt the same way."

Now I was stunned. "You can't like me. Isabelle. You like Isabelle."

"I'm sorry...I can't just not like you Clary." His cheeks were pink and I could tell that he was mortified. But so was I.

"But you're my best friend...you made it seem like you really liked her. Whenever we were all together I saw you looking at her."

Simon lowered his voice and tangled his hands in his hair, squeezing his eyes shut, wishing for this conversation to be over. "Clary..." He finally looked me in the eye. "I was looking at you."

No. No. Crap.

"But––"

"Can we just forget about this?"

"Simon––"

"No. It's obvious that you don't like me." I couldn't imagine how he was feeling. I basically just turned him down after he gutted-up and admitted his feelings for me. Simon was my friend though. My best friend that I trusted more than anyone else in the world.

What would Isabelle think? She'd hate me. I hate me.

The thing that set my two best friends apart was how understanding Simon was. Simon was the one I felt I could confide in about anything. He was the only one that knew about my life prior to moving to New York. I trusted Isabelle with my life, but we had a different kind of friendship. She was the one I went to to get my nails done, Simon was the one I went to to laugh and get everything off my chest.

But in this moment, Simon seemed to look at me as if I were a monster. It was as if me not feeling the same way about him was the most awful thing he'd ever heard.

"I _do_ like you Simon. Just not like _that_. I love you, but as a best friend. As a...brother." I kept my voice soft and gentle. His eyes were killing me.

"As a brother?" The idea seemed to be a major blow. "Clary...how could you not tell that I...liked you? It's not like it wasn't obvious. I gave you more than enough hints."

How could I answer that when I didn't have a clue? Simon treated me like one of the guys, he'd toss me into a freezing cold lake if he could, not––or at least I thought––take me on a romantic date and give me flowers. Maybe, every once in awhile, he'd complain about not having a girlfriend, but it's not like he ever told me I was pretty or anything. When I went to homecoming last year he told me I looked 'nice', but that's not exactly I-like-you material.

"I just never really...got that vibe from you."

At that his jaw dropped open in shock. "When you broke up with that bastard last year I literally drove to Walmart at 12 in the morning and bought you the mother load of vanilla bean ice cream––Do you know how mad my mom was at me? I go to that stupid club with you whenever Isabelle can't even though I hate it there; I don't think that's something a _friend_ would do.

"Do you not feel anything for me at all? Anything?"

"Simon," I whispered. I reached my hand out to touch his arm but he brushed it off immediately.

"No. Don't. Let's never talk about this again."

"But––"

"There's some more soda left. Want me to grab you a can?" He cut me off and completely changed the subject. I knew that he was trying to act as if nothing happened, but he was suddenly cold. I could already feel him becoming more distant. He was a completely different person.

Did I just lose my best friend?

"Simon, please," I tried.

"There's some Sprite in the kitchen if you don't want Coke."

He wasn't letting up.

"Stop being stupid and talk to me!" I demanded.

"What do you want me to say?" He laughed angrily. "That I suddenly have feelings for Isabelle?"

"No," I croaked. "Simon––please I need you, I don't want things to change between us because of this."

He let out a breath and tried to steer his attention away from me, towards his band members that were all laughing about something Eric was saying. I didn't dare look back at Isabelle.

"Simon, I'm sorry."

He ignored me. "Okay! Break's over," Simon announced to everyone, earning groans in return. He brushed past me and didn't look at me the rest of the night.

It was so hard to keep myself from crying.

* * *

**~Jace~**

"Don't tell me Clary Fairchild dropped you off!" Jordan Kyle was in hysterics. "I thought you hated her? Didn't you leave her in the rain this morning?!"

"I do hate her. It's a long story," I grumbled.

"Well you can tell me all about it tomorrow at Aline's house."

"Why there?"

Jordan's eyes bugged out of his head. He passed the ball to me and I caught it in the air, light on my feet. "Dude, you're joking? Major party. I heard it's gonna be crazy––Aline caught her dad like cheating or something and he promised her he'd give her anything she wanted to keep her mouth shut."

"So she asked for a party?" I couldn't help but sound disgusted. If I ever caught my dad––well Robert cheating on Maryse I certainly wouldn't keep it from her. What a brat.

"Yeah. Girl's crazy, but she's pretty hot."

"Jordan," I rolled my eyes, returning the pass with a perfect spiral. "She looks like a racoon."

He thought for a moment before exclaiming, "A hot racoon!"

"You're an idiot."

He scoffed and then furrowed his eyebrows, trying to be serious. "You know that girl that hangs out with your sister sometimes?"

"Um..." Isabelle was always hanging around the same person. "Clary?"

Jordan gave me a look. "No. God, Sebastian would kill me. Maia. Maia Roberts?"

"Never heard of her."

"I think she's pretty cute."

"Does she look like a racoon too?" I asked.

"No, she's really...pretty and she's really cool. Like I felt like we really connected––"

"Okay, take your tampon out and focus. That pass sucked," I told him.

He glared. "I'm not the quarterback Wayland. And I was just saying..."

"What? So you're gonna ask her out?"

Jordan kept the ball in his hands. "I don't know. I might. I haven't decided yet." Then he looked up from the football with a grin. "We still have like ten minutes before the first whistle. Now's a good time to tell me why you got dropped off _late_ in Clary's truck."

"Dude." I sighed. "You know that we hate each other, so there's really nothing to tell. Maryse took my car and either I had to walk or..."

"And she just willingly gave you a ride?" Jordan asked in disbelief.

"No. She's not that stupid." Though, I wish she was. "Let's just say I won't be going to that party."

"What––why?"

"I have to write Clary's essay for history."

"Starkweather's class?"

"Yup. It's on the Constitution and I barely finished mine," I grumbled.

"Oh man. I have him this year too," he grimaced, his dark eyes widening. " And my sister had him last year. She can let you use her essay if she still has it––I know she got an A because she was skipping around the house for like an entire week–– and then you can go to the party. I'd offer you my essay but it sucks. What do you say?"

If Clary ever found out she'd hate me even more than she did now. _Not_ that I would mind.

"Okay, cool deal––"

"WAYLAND, KYLE! Stop lollygagging and take two laps!" Coach Warden bellowed. His whistle was blaring in my ears as he jogged towards us. He was a heavier man with no hair and a big nose. As a freshman, when I didn't know any better and he still had a beard, I thought he could be Santa Claus if Santa Claus was real. But Coach Warden was an awful person that was constantly yelling. Even though he was twelve inches shorter than me and almost always had his fly undone, he was still pretty intimidating.

"Wayland," he gasped, struggling to find air. That twenty foot run must've been pretty hard. "Do double! You're supposed to be leading this team," he sucked in a deep breath, "and...here you are...lollygagging."

I wanted to protest, but when I arrived late Coach Warden had only yelled at me for a few minutes. This must be punishment for both tardiness and 'lollygagging'––who the hell says lollygagging?

Jordan just mumbled something under his breath before he began to run alongside me. "You suck," I told him.

"So you and Clary didn't have sex?"

* * *

**I'll try to update as soon as possible. Your reviews mean the world to me!(:**


	4. I'm Going Under

**Hint: There's a reason as to why Clary's the way she is.**

* * *

_I'm Going Under:_

**~Clary~**

"So...what did he say?"

Something about the look on my face kept Isabelle from asking about Simon until we were officially turning off of his street. I was grateful in a way, but the guilt I felt was so overwhelming that in that moment, as the music played softly around us, I couldn't do anything but drive.

We sat in tense silence for at least ten minutes. I could only imagine that Isabelle was swarmed with thoughts about what went down between us, and, knowing her, she was most likely thinking the worst. I wanted nothing more than to tell her that Simon _did_ like her. That his feelings for her were just as strong as her feelings for him. To assure her. But because I couldn't, because I couldn't make it just come true, I felt miserable.

This was going to tear us all apart.

How would I be able to cope without my best friends? They were my steady rocks; the two people that I knew would always be there for me. Isabelle and Simon didn't even know how much they meant to me, they didn't know that they were the ones that were helping me...move on.

Her voice was soft when Isabelle allowed herself to try again. "Clary, I can handle it. He doesn't like me. I get it. You don't have to protect me."

What should I tell her? 'Oh, I'm sorry but Simon actually likes me. He didn't even have a clue that you were in to him.'

How could I tell her the truth?

"Um," I stifled, keeping my voice as collected as I could. "Isabelle..."

She already looked crushed. I _couldn't_ do this.

"I think...you should talk to him about it."

I hoped that she'd leave it at that. I wanted her to crank up the music and start laughing. I actually _wanted_ her to start telling me all about the bimbos in her chemistry class.

But instead, she sat there staring at me in utter disbelief. Her eyes said it all: _you're really not going to tell me?_

"_Clary_."

"Isabelle...Simon––he-he..."

"Just spit it out Clary! I'm not blind," she sputtered as if I had insulted her somehow. "I saw his face while you were talking to him. He looked pissed afterwards. And you, you look like you're about to burst into tears. Him finding out about me liking him couldn't of been that horrible. What happened?"

I tried to focus on the road, but it was nearly impossible with tears blurring my vision and so many different things running through my mind.

"You know what," she suddenly spat. "You're unbelievable! If you were really my best friend you would tell me!_ I_ tell you everything."

"I tell you––"

"Bullshit, Clary." She raked a hand through her hair and turned her steely gaze out the window. "I'm so mad at your right now that I could spit nails. _You tell me everything_? Whatever."

It was easier to defend myself when I didn't look at her. Whenever I looked at Isabelle it just reminded me of everything she had helped me through. It just reminded me that our friendship was on the line.

"Yes," I said through clenched teeth.

"You still haven't even talked to me about your da––" then she cut herself off immediately. Her anger vanished, replaced with overwhelming solace and regret.

_My dad_?

I laughed, my throat dry, tears finally spilling over. "About what?! About my father? I _can't_! Isabelle, I think about him every _goddamned_ day, I have nightmares about him every _goddamned_ night. I'm so sorry that I can't bring myself to talk about him! I think you can connect the dots."

I knew that I had no right to be angry with her, especially not right now, but how could she..._use_ him against me? She only knew that my real dad had been abusive, but the extent, she had no idea. I only willed myself into talking about him––to her––after I had lived in New York for about a year. She'd noticed the scars on my lower back and, because she had been my only real friend at the time, I told her.

For two years she never brought him up, and secretly, despite how stupid it was, I hoped that she'd forgotten, but now I knew that she thought about him every time she saw me.

Did she honestly think that I was ready to tell her everything?

She didn't know the half of it.

My grip on the steering wheel tightened and my knuckles were turning white. A few sobs involuntarily escaped my mouth and when I tried to hold them back, they only got louder. _Just the thought of him._

His vile stench of alcohol and musk and cheap cologne suddenly filled my nose. I was back in our old motorhome. I could hear my mother screaming from the kitchen. I could hear his belt whip through the air in horrifying lashes.

His fingers were suddenly in my hair, yanking me to my feet.

It was all coming back to me in unpleasant flashes.

The size of his hands.

His black eyes.

His voice.

I could see my mother holding me against her chest as the man she'd once loved and trusted _hit_ her own son. My brother.

_Jonathan––_

"CLARY!" Isabelle screeched, her hands violently shaking me, pulling me back to reality.

There were bright lights.

There was honking.

Isabelle was screaming.

* * *

**~Jace~**

We lost.

Even with five seconds remaining, the stands were all on there feet, alight with hope. I could hear my name being chanted. _Jace. Jace. Jace._

And then it was all over, like that.

The first game the St. Xavier's Shadowhunters had lost in nearly two years.

And even though the other team had possession towards the end, I couldn't help but feel responsible. I should've passed to _him_...I shouldn't of rushed...I shouldn't of waited _then_...I called the wrong play...I wasn't focused _enough_.

I let everyone down.

Ever since I started at St. Xavier's, I was a star on the field. I _never_ disappointed. As a freshman, though I had only been second string quarterback, I was clearly better than the senior, first string quarterback, Dave Pattinson. And I got to prove it too.

The first game of the season, he sprained his wrist before half-time. We were down 7-20. At the time, I was one of the smallest players on the team and Coach Warden, being twenty pounds smaller with a bush of a beard, was very hesitant to put me in. But he and I both knew that I was their only hope. He'd grumbled under his breath, "We're gonna lose anyways...might as well."

No one had believed in me. I was only a freshman after all.

As soon as the whistle blew signaling that the third quarter had begun, I could hear the groans, I could see hundreds of disappointed faces without even having to look towards the crowd, but my heart was pumping with excitement.

Their lack of confidence in me only gave me satisfaction.

I was born to play football. I knew the game like the back of my hand. Though I had been small, I was fast, I was strong, and I had heart.

The ending score: 29-20.

We went undefeated the entire season. Everyone knew my name and respected me. I was no longer another stupid freshman, I was Jace Wayland, _the_ quarterback that happened to be a freshman. I was suddenly invited to senior parties, hit on by even more girls, and on top of the world. I was no longer alone.

And it seemed to get even better as I got older. I was always a cute kid––let's be honest––but I was taller now. A lot taller. And I had more friends than I ever thought possible. I had fans and people that truly believed in me.

But tonight, I let everyone down.

We lost.

By two goddamned points.

* * *

**~Clary~**

I jolted into action. Seconds before my truck and a Hummer made a fatal sandwich, I jerked my steering wheel to the right, narrowly returning to the right lane. The Hummer's horn blared angrily in my ears until I could no longer hear.

My heart was lurching out of my chest.

Not only could I have killed myself, I could've killed Isabelle and whoever else was in that car.

I braced myself for Isabelle's wrath, but it never came. I peered over at her and she looked just as shocked as I felt. She was holding a hand to her chest and her eyes were bugging out of her head, her mouth ajar. "Clary...what?" She whispered.

"I'm so sorry Isabelle," my voice quivered. "I'm so sorry." I repeated it over and over, hoping that it'd make me feel better, no matter how selfish, even though I didn't deserve it, but it only made me feel worse. The initial truth of what almost happened just kept sinking in deeper and deeper.

I could've been responsible for destroying the lives of who knows how many people.

"I'm so sorry," I cried.

She paused, sucking in a breath. I heard her shift in her seat and then I felt her hand on my shoulder. "Clary, it's okay...When we were––It was like you couldn't hear me," she said. "Were you––Are...are you okay?"

I nodded, my movements craggy and uneven because of the sobs still racking through my body. "I'm...fine...a-are you?"

Isabelle sighed. "I didn't mean to bring...that person...up. I'm really sorry Clary. I didn't know you'd...react like that."

"I'm going to take you home," I told her.

"What––Clary, I thought I was sleeping over?"

I just wanted to be alone. I wanted to feel guilty and be able to just think in the safety of my bed. It was times like these when I desired to see Simon. When I wanted to be alone, it wasn't that I actually wanted to be_ alone_. I just wanted to be able to talk and get everything out without any interruptions and more complications.

Simon just _listened_ to me. His kind and quiet nature comforted me. He cleared my mind and made the perplexity of my problems so much easier to comprehend. It was that reason alone why he knew so much more about me than anyone else, from my father, to my brother, to the accident that ultimately compelled my mother into moving us to New York.

No matter how much I loved Isabelle, she didn't want to just listen. She wanted to put her input in, scrambling things even more. She didn't know the things that Simon knew and even though I had a reason for it, it still made me feel awful. She was just as good a friend as Simon, but I just wasn't ready to tell her. I'm not sure I'll ever be.

Even with that said, she was still helping me––with the very things that she had no knowledge about––by just being there for me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I just don't feel good."

"Clary if this is about––that, please don't push me away. I promise I'll never mention it again."

"No, I have a-a headache." And that wasn't necessarily a lie, my head was throbbing at the moment, screaming at me to lie down.

She didn't argue, but I could tell that it was killing her.

There were so many things to worry about.

I _needed_ Simon, but he most likely hated me.

"Clary...can we talk tomorrow about this––not about...your...dad, but Simon?" Isabelle asked carefully as I pulled up in front of her gate. I still flinched as she said 'dad'.

I punched in the code, struggling to keep it together. I knew that if I said no, she'd be even angrier with me. But when I told her the truth, there wouldn't be much of a difference. "I guess," I sniffed. There was no avoiding it.

She deserved to know the truth.

But then I'd lose her too.

I pulled around the fountain and she gave me an awkward-sideways hug before she opened the door. "I'll have Alec or someone bring me over tomorrow, if that's okay. I'll call you first," she smiled. "I hope you...feel better."

Then, she jumped down off the seat and gave me a single wave. I gave her a tremulous smile as she closed the door, and I watched as she disappeared inside her house, my heart crumbling.

What on earth did Simon see in my anyways?

* * *

As soon as I was inside our home, I heard my mom shuffling around in the kitchen. I took in a waft of familiar paint fumes, scented candles, and leather.

Our apartment was tiny and its walls were all painted a boring tan color. However, my mother's paintings that decorated nearly every square-inch, set an aura of excitement. There were no photographs, _anywhere_, those just dug up memories neither of us wanted to dwell on more than we already did.

Though it was tiny, it was very cozy. The living room had a very large window that overlooked all of the lights and crowded streets of New York, a plush red couch, a small coffee table, and a TV. Two steps to the right, there was our kitchen. It had all the fundamental equipment any ordinary kitchen would have, but we rarely used the stove or oven. We loved our small, shiny black microwave.

The main room branched out to two different, very small rooms, each with their own bathroom.

Even though I've grown accustomed to our apartment, It'll never change my mind about moving back to California as soon as I graduate from high school. The two years my mom and I lived there with Jonathan were the happiest days of my life.

It was still, to this day, home to Jonathan's lifeless body and his soul.

When he died, Mom wanted to get as far away from the San Fernando Valley as possible. But I couldn't wait to go back. It was truly the only place that I felt safe.

The only place that I ever saw my brother smile.

Only a few more years and I'll be with him again.

"Clary? Is that you?" My mom called.

"Yeah," I said, trying to put on a convincing smile before she saw me. But it was hopeless. I was an ugly crier and the evidence was still very noticeable. My eyes felt swollen, my cheeks were hot, and puffy, and probably the same color as my hair, and I still couldn't rid of the sobs that just wouldn't leave me alone.

"Are you all right?" I could hear her alarmed voice get louder as she got closer to me. Then I saw her tall, slender figure appear from behind the corner. One look at me and she was running to my side, wrapping her arms around me with all of her strength.

I welcomed her embrace and fitted my head in the crook of her neck. I cried into her warm skin and let her soothe me. She held me like that for a very long time and rocked my body gently from side to side.

"What happened?" Her fingers stroked my hair and rubbed my back.

"Just a really bad night," I sniffed, my voice heavy with tears.

"Is this about Isabelle?" she whispered calmly. "I thought she was spending the night?"

I let out a deep breath. "She's only part of it."

"Do you want to talk to me about it?"

I shook my head slowly. I didn't want to have to tell her about the almost-accident; she'd freak and wouldn't let me drive on my own ever again. And I also didn't want to tell her about Simon and his crush on me.

Simon was over at our place almost as often as Isabelle. It'd only make things even more awkward.

There was that part of me that wanted to tell her everything and gush about how mad I was at myself––she was in fact my mom––but there was that stubborn block in my brain that prohibited me.

The cons just outweighed the pros in this instance.

I felt her kiss the top of my head and, with her arms still wrapped around me, she lead me to the couch. "I'll make us some coffee," she smiled.

Coffee sounded amazing. I drank coffee every morning and, of course, whenever it was available. I loved it almost as much as I loved my salt water taffy.

She turned on the TV to reruns of _Full House _and returned a few minutes later with two mugs in her hands. "Thank you," I said, and she curled up beside me, kissing my temple.

"You know that I love you Clary, no matter what."

I nodded. "Of course. I love you too."

I knew my mom loved me, she said it to me every day, but it still gave me reassurance every time she said it.

I've lost so many years of my childhood, my brother, and possibly my two best friends, but I'd never lose my mom.

* * *

The next morning, I found that I could barely open my eyes. I was still wrapped in my mom's arms and my coffee from last night had spilled slightly onto my lap. I sighed and made a move to get up until I realized what it was that had woken me up so early.

Someone was pounding on the door.

* * *

**Sorry for the long wait! I was pretty busy and I still haven't been able to edit so...hope it's okay. Thanks so much for your reviews. Please feel free to leave any suggestions(:**

**Until next time!**


	5. Surprise

_Surprise:_

**~Clary~**

Then I was wide awake, my heart thudding with uneasiness. I slowly unlatched my mom's arms from around me and ignored my aching body as I stood up. I realized that I was still in my attire from last night. No wonder I was baking; I had on a jacket, jeans, and a scarf.

"C-clary?" My mom slurred.

I kept my eyes on the door. "There's someone outside," I told her, incase she hadn't already figured it out.

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

I didn't realize my mom was standing next to me until I felt her hand brush my arm. "Stay right here," she said. If we had been in any other circumstance, I would've laughed at how cautious she was. 'Stay right here'...as if I wasn't standing directly across the room from the door.

But I didn't argue.

I watched as she looked through the eyehole in the door. Then she let out a big sigh of relief. A few chuckles escaped her mouth. "It's Dorothea, from across the hall."

The weight on my shoulders immediately lifted and I allowed myself to smile. "What do you think she wants?" I asked, slumping back against the couch.

My mom shrugged. "No one in their right mind would be banging on our door at––," she looked down at her watch, "––_five_ in the morning." Then she unlatched the lock. Dorothea was in the middle of knocking furiously, and when she finally realized that her raised fist was hitting nothing but air, her dark eyes were wide and her cheeks flushed crimson.

I'd never get used to the old, stocky woman that lived across the hall. She was quite...different. Today she was wearing a long dress that looked two sizes too long. African prints and designs ran the length of the gown in eye-popping colors that stood out against her darker skin. Normally, she was wearing a turban, but today, her dreadlocks sprung loose in all different directions.

She had a very gruff voice when she spoke. "Finally!" She huffed, placing both of her hands on her hips. "I was out here for...well for a very long, long time!"

"I'm very sorry Dorothea––" my mother began, but she was stopped abruptly by the woman that was half her height and three times her width, almost making me laugh.

"It's _Madame_ Dorothea! _Madame_. Madame. _Say it_!"

My mom looked back at me before focusing her attention back to _Madame _Dorothea. "I'm very sorry, Madame Dorothea," my mother said, her voice struggling to keep calm. "Clary and I were both _sleeping_."

Madame Dorothea shook her head, ignoring the hint, her hair springing every which way. "No matter. I came to see if you had any sugar."

"Hmm...of course," my mom said and she ushered her inside. Do––Madame Dorothea waddled through the entryway and stopped, her eyes focussed on one of my mom's newest paintings sitting on the floor, waiting to be hung up.

"Why this is lovely," she exclaimed. "Really brings out the...life in here."

"Yeah, I think it took her about six months to finish," I said.

My mother, if you haven't already guessed, was a brilliant artist. She was always painting something and even sold a few pieces of her work. But, her main income came from working at the preschool a few blocks away. She only worked three days a week, but money wasn't really an issue (we lived in the smallest apartment known to man), and I was going to get a job of my own eventually to help out.

My mom and a paintbrush was like me and a pencil. I loved to draw.

My mom walked out of the kitchen with a ziplock bag full of sugar and put on a smile. "Thank you Jocelyn," Madame Dorothea said. "Bring Clary over once in awhile. You two are always welcome."

"Will do."

"I'm making banana bread," she smiled, a mad glint in her eyes, "I'll make an extra loaf for you guys."

My mom nodded, no doubt thinking the exact same thing I was: _we'll just throw it out as soon as she leaves._

It wasn't that we didn't appreciate it. We did. But, the woman couldn't cook to save her life. The last thing she sent us––supposedly cake––was as hard as a rock and...I found one of her toenails unfortunately...eesh.

"How thoughtful," my mom said. "Thank you."

"Oh, and before I forget..." Madame Dorothea dug around in one of the baggy arms of her dress. She pulled out a single envelope. "I picked up your mail."

"H-how did you get our key––" My mother asked sharply, but before she could finish, Madame Dorothea was already waddling away, the door shutting behind her. "Crazy nut."

* * *

My mom looked down at the letter and immediately frowned. I watched intently as she ripped open the envelope and let out a sharp gasp, her eyes raking over the sheet of paper as if she thought it would catch fire if she looked at it hard enough.

"What is it?" I asked.

Her eyes never met mine.

"I-It's still really early Clary. Go get some more sleep."

"Mom––?"

"_Just go_," she snapped, her tone surprising me to my feet. My mom never yelled at me for anything. It was scary to see her calm and collected demeanor suddenly crumble. She was only ever like this––frazzled and stressed––when we were still living with my...dad.

"Okay," I whispered, shuffling quietly to my room.

My bed looked so warm and inviting, but how could I sleep right now? What was in that letter?

_Just go._

Ever since we got away from my father, my mom was a completely different person. She channeled any anger she had into her artwork. She never raised her voice, showered me and Jonathan, while he was still alive, with love, and kept a positive, open mind.

Something in that letter had to of provoked her.

This was going to drive me insane.

I began pacing around my room furiously. I'm sure that if I kept the pace I was going at, I would've burned a hole through the ground, but my focus was suddenly drawn to my sketchbook.

It lay on the bench under my window. It was probably one of my favorite places in all of New York, besides my bed. I had my own secret sentry of everything in the own comfort of my bedroom. I had the perfect view of the beautiful Brooklyn Bridge and the New York City Skyline. It was breathtaking, especially at sunset.

I curled up on the cushion, my sketchbook in my lap, and began to draw.

* * *

**~Jace~**

"Jace?" The voice was barely there, a faint whisper that seemed to suddenly cloud my mind at ease. "Jace?" This time it was more persistent and daringly loud. The lights in my room were suddenly invading my hooded eyes and I let out a loud groan.

"Jace," my little brother hissed. Through my squinted vision, I could make out his small form at the foot of my bed. "Please wake up! I need you."

"Maaxxx," I sighed, rubbing my hands over my face.

I felt his hands tugging on the hem of my shirt until I finally gave in and sat up, still half-asleep. I blinked away how groggy I felt and ignored the wave of dizziness that swarmed through my body.

I was met with big blue eyes behind Harry Potter glasses. Max was smiling at me, his two front teeth missing. "I found something," he told me.

"This better be newsworthy," I said, but I kept my voice light and cracked a barely-there smile. I couldn't help but feel exalted that Max came to me. He didn't go to Alec, or Isabelle, or even his parents. He came to_ me_. And besides, I always had a soft spot for the kid. He was my biggest fan and looked at me unlike he looked at anyone else; his eyes, whenever they landed on me, seemed to light up. He looked at me with admiration.

"I was out adventuring in the backyard," Max said, eager to tell me. "And then I heard a meow coming from our rose garden. I found a cat!"

I rubbed the back of my head with uneasiness. "A cat?" I couldn't wait until Maryse heard about this.

He nodded vigorously. "It looked real hungry, Jace, so I made him some _Cap'n Crunch_!"

I arched an eyebrow and smirked. "Must be one special cat if you're giving him my favorite cereal."

"Oh he is!" Max exploded. "Jace––he has one eye!"

"Eh...So..." I was almost too afraid to ask, "where is this one-eyed cat now?"

Max suddenly grasped my hand and pulled me to my feet with all of his might. "Come on! I'll show you!" He was practically skipping as he lead me out of my room, two doors down to his own sanctuary.

Max released my hand and very carefully creaked open the door. He popped his head inside and then opened the door a little further, giving me the thumbs-up. Sure enough, in the cluster of toys, comic books, and dirty clothes, there was a very large cat sitting on his tousled bed, surrounded by pillows.

"Look, I made him a nest and everything," Max exclaimed. "Look, look, look. See, it only has one eye!"

"Uh-huh," I said. Boy, was that one ugly cat. I don't know how Max deluded himself into thinking that this animal could possibly be hungry––its belly was protruding out the seems. It had very choppy, brownish fur that looked like it could use a good wash or two, two huge ears, a small pink nose, and one, large, bright yellow eye.

"For some reason, he doesn't seem to like _Cap'n Crunch_," Max frowned, his eyes on the bowl of cereal sitting untouched at the feet of the cat. "You'd think he'd appreciate it, but..."

"Max," I sighed, "you do realize that your mom will never let you keep it."

The smile fell from his face. "But, that's why I came to you, so you could help me talk to her about keeping him as a pet. Oh I promise I'll take really good care of him and I'll make him breakfast, lunch, and dinner––you guys will hardly even know he's here! He can stay in my room. Oh please Jace! Please, please, please, please!"

Ever since I moved in with the Lightwoods about seven years ago, Maryse made it very clear that she didn't want any animal living in our house, even though we had more than enough space. When Isabelle and I were thirteen, she rescued a rabbit and begged her mom to keep him, but Maryse had our butler handle him––I still don't know what really happened to the poor critter.

If she didn't let her little girl keep a bunny, she sure as hell wouldn't let Max keep this cat.

I sighed looking down at him. He was just so fascinated by the thing on his bed, and I know for a fact that he'd cry if we had to get rid of it.

Of course he had to get me involved. He knew I couldn't resist helping him.

Smart kid.

"Max..."

The cat arched its back and stretched out its legs making Max gasp with amazement. "Did you see that?! Wow."

Not only did he have to find an animal, he had to find the ugliest and smelliest cat known to man. "I'm gonna call him...Chairman Meow!" He suddenly exclaimed. "Do you get it Jace? Because he only has one eye and looks like the _Monopoly_ guy and he _meows_! Isn't it great?"

Great, now the thing had a name.

There was no way out of his now.

I patted the top of his head with my hand. "What the heck are you doing up so early anyways?" I asked, not allowing myself to argue about letting the cat go. It was futile.

Max looked up and pressed into my hand with a bright face. "It's only five!"

"Huh, it's _only_ five. That's not that early," I rolled my eyes. It was _only_ six hours before I would normally wake up on the weekends.

"And I told you, I was adventuring," Max said, pointing down to his Spiderman rain boots, as if it were obvious.

"Does Mom know about your little morning adventures?" I asked, slightly amused despite my situation.

Max shook his head quickly, his hair bristling against the palm of my hand. "No, it's top secret so keep quiet about it. Got it?"

"Okay...What makes you think Mom will give in if I help you?"

Max pondered this for a moment. "Well...I don't really know actually...two is better than one?" He shrugged, releasing a small, unsure giggle.

"'Two is better than one'?" I raised both of my eyebrows. "Is that so?"

"You said so yourself when you wanted me to help you clean the kitchen last week," Max retorted smartly.

"Okay...fine. I'll help you––" I said, knowing that there was no other option.

"YES—!"

"But, first you have to give this thing a bath. Your mom will never let you keep him if she can smell him a mile away," I told him firmly.

At that, Max blinked a few times with confusion. "I never...gave a cat a bath before...do you think you could help me? Two is better than one, right?"

I sighed loudly. "Why not?"

Max clapped his hands together and then wrapped his skinny arms around my legs. He flounced away towards his bathroom and gave me instructions. "Okay, good. So you get the cat and I'll start filling up the tub."

I gave him a tremulous smile and stumbled over all of his action figures sprawled out across the floor. The one-eyed cat looked at me with an evil glint. I slowly stuck out my hand and when it was merely centimeters away, it let out a low hiss. I recoiled immediately.

Oh boy.

* * *

**~Clary~**

When I drew something, I had no control over what it was. My mind just created the picture, and I recreated it with a pencil, my fingers moving with a mind of their own. I couldn't think of anything else really when I got in the zone, all I could focus on was the lead gliding across an originally blank canvas until there was no more room for details.

Then, I'd have a picture.

I had to admit that I was actually very good at drawing. I had to be though, drawing was something that kept Jonathan and me close. When he was still alive, I used to watch him for hours and hours as he drew the most amazing things. True, I had a natural act for it myself, but it was him that got me into it.

I looked down at my newest piece of artwork and I felt my stomach churning.

No way.

I had drawn..._Jace Wayland_.

There had to be some kind of a mistake! But there was no mistaking that beautifully awful face.

I had captured him in the midst of smirking, his lips pressed together in a fine, crooked line. His gold eyes were alight, his light eyebrows furrowed together knowingly. I had drawn everything from his very defined jaw, to his slender nose, to his cheekbones, to the slight shading of his bronzed skin, to his fair hair that swooped delicately across his forehead.

Something about that look was so annoying, yet so familiar and grudgingly breathtaking.

And the worst part of it was that my mind _wanted_ me to draw him.

Considering all that I was going through, why on earth had I drawn _him_?

Stupid brain.

My God, and why was it so accurate? It was like literally looking at a picture of Jace.

Why hadn't I drawn Simon or Isabelle? Or even that mysterious letter? Why hadn't I drawn the Brooklyn Bridge or something?

Why had I drawn the boy that I hated? The boy that strived to make my life a living hell?

Just one more problem.

I immediately tore out the awful picture and crumpled it up until it was the size of my doorknob. In an act of fury, I chucked it with all my might towards the trashcan by my desk, but it bounced off the rim and landed on the floor, its folds slightly coming undone.

* * *

**~Jace~**

About an hour later, I gained several new scratches, and I was literally soaked. That cat really put up a nasty fight.

Max, of course, watched me clean _his_ cat, sitting on the lid of his closed toilet seat. He told me that he was "observing" so that he would know what to do next time. Well, ha, ha, the next time he had to clean this cat, I was going to run as far away as I could. Chairman Meow really hated me.

His feelings for me might even rival Clary's.

"Okay, so now what?" Max asked after I set––threw––Chairman Meow back onto Max's bed, wrapped tightly in a towel.

I shrugged. "Uh...now we go see if Mom's up, I guess."

Max seemed disappointed at that and I couldn't blame him. Maryse may be a kind and loving mom, but she was quite strict and it was hard to get your point across to her when she didn't approve.

"Okay...but, can we have eat breakfast first?" He asked, hopeful.

"I don't know, you might've fed all of it to Chairman Meow," I said, but I lead him downstairs to the kitchen anyways. Our house was always clean, so clean that you could see your reflection on the wood floors. Everything, from the pictures that decorated the vast walls, to the fancy lighting and chandeliers, to the furniture, glimmered. The first few weeks I lived here, I was pretty uncomfortable. It was like I was living in a plastic house and I was afraid that I'd get sent away if I left a scuff of dirt on the intricate rug by the front door.

"We can ask Bosha to make us pancakes," Max suggested. Bosha was our personal nanny from Poland. Since Alec, Isabelle, and I were all teenagers with cars and Maryse and Robert were often gone on business trips, Bosha was the one that provided for Max most of the time. She was fun to talk to, with her heavy accent and all, and she was a great cook.

"She's probably still asleep," I emphasized._ Just like every other sane person._

So that's why I was genuinely surprised when I saw Isabelle sitting at the island after we rounded the corner. She was wearing her pink robe and was looking down at the mug in her hands, her face looking beat. Max was just as shocked as I was.

Isabelle was_ not_ a morning person.

"Isabelle?" I called. "How long have you been up?"

She shrugged lazily, her eyes still not meeting mine. "I don't know. I couldn't sleep."

Max and I exchanged looks. "Eh...I'm sorry?" I offered. "Do you––wait, aren't you supposed to be at Clary's or something?"

She nodded and then shrugged again.

"Um...want me to make you some cereal or...?" I asked.

She shook her head. "I'm too depressed to eat."

Then Max tugged on the hem of my shirt. I looked down at him and I tried to read his face, but his eyes were just bugging out of his head and his mouth was open abnormally wide. _Nine year olds..._

"Do you...do you know where Maryse––Mom is?"

Isabelle shrugged again. God, that was getting annoying. "She left already."

"Left?"

Isabelle nodded. "Yeah, she had a flight to Denver at four. I think there's a conference meeting or something." Well, I guess there _was_ someone who was up even earlier than we were.

At this, Max seemed to bounce up. "So she's like really gone?"

"Uh-huh."

"For how long?" I asked, knowing that the longer she was away, the more it'd benefit Max's case.

"I don't know? Does it really matter?" Isabelle said.

"Okay––can you stop acting like that!"

Her sad eyes finally looked up. They were puffier than usual, like she'd been crying. "I'm sorry...I just had a bad night." She took in a deep breath and straightened up. "So...why do you guys want Mom?"

"I don't..." I said, nudging Max.

Max stepped forward hesitantly. "Izzy, I found something."

"Ut-oh," she sighed. "If it's a bunny, forget it."

* * *

**~Clary~**

I silently crept out of my room, paranoid that my mom would still be in the same state I'd left her in. But confusion soon overtook me when I realized that my mom wasn't even here. The apartment was empty.

I immediately went to the fridge, not because I was hungry, but because I knew that she always left me a note there. This one read:

_Sorry, went to Luke's!_

_Won't be back till later. Be safe and don't leave anywhere without calling me._

_Love,_

_Mom_

Wouldn't she of said goodbye before she left? She always told me where she was going in person if I was still home, even if I was asleep.

She was definitely acting strange.

I sighed and raked my fingers through my hair; I needed to get away.

So I did just that.

* * *

I found myself walking aimlessly around the streets of New York. Before I left, I had showered and changed into clothes that weren't wrinkled to death from sleeping in them, and pulled my hair back in a ponytail, uninterested to do anything more with it.

The air was bitter and cold, but at the moment, I didn't want to be trapped in my small apartment. I needed to clear my head in an alternative way since drawing didn't do anything but add yet another problem. And, of course, I couldn't call Simon either. I hadn't tried to reach him yet, but I was too afraid that if I did he'd hang up on me or something and confirm the inevitable.

I walked past countless shops, each one a blur until I saw _**HELP WANTED**_ written in big, red letters. I peered inside the shop and was surprised to see that I had come this far since I'd left the apartment. I was standing in front of **PET PALACE**, a fairly large store with everything, well, pets.

I've always wanted a pet, even if it was a fish, but my family has always been so unstable in the past that it was out of the question. And now we were living in an apartment that prohibited any animals to live there. Damn.

I used to love coming here with my mom whenever we were on our way to Luke's. Even though I couldn't have any, I still loved to see all of the dogs, cats, hamsters, gerbils, guinea pigs, birds, and fish.

The door _binged _as soon as I stepped inside.

It was vacant besides the various animals and their whimpers and squeaks. There was only one cash register, I noticed, and it was positioned at the front of the store along with a large desk. Behind it were all sorts of collars and leashes, and treats.

A man walked down a set of stairs leading to what I assumed was the storage unit. He had gray hair and was pretty bulky, but he seemed nice enough.

"I thought I heard someone," he smiled. "Not a lot of people come here on Saturdays, what can I do for ya?"

"Oh um...I saw your advertisement in the window and I think––I'm interested in working here," I said, unsure of how to do this kind of thing. I've never had a job, besides babysitting, let alone applied for one. I didn't even _know _if I wanted to work here, I just saw the sign and...just kinda winged it.

His chubby face lit up at that, "Really? That'd be wonderful. My daughter used to work here, but she's gone off to get an education," he said. "I've been running this store all by myself and I didn't know how much longer I could hold up."

"I'd be happy to help," I said.

"Just grab an application right there," he pointed to the stack of papers positioned on the corner of the desk, "and turn it in whenever you can. I didn't expect to get an offer so soon, to tell ya the truth, especially not from someone so pretty and as young as you."

I liked this guy a lot.

I blushed slightly and took one of the packets. "I'll try to drop it off tomorrow if I can," I told him.

"Wonderful, the job's yours as long as you aren't incapable of working––have you ever worked in a store before?"

I shrugged, a little embarrassed, "I've never had a job before."

The man chortled. "You'll do just fine. I'm Bill by the way."

"Clary," I said and he hustled over to me to shake my hand.

"Okay Clary," Bill beamed, his cheeks jolly red. "I hope to see you soon."

"Thanks," I said. "You will."

With that, I turned on my heel, sparing a wave, and opened the door... only to run into the unthinkable.

* * *

**Okay, so this was just a little filler chapter, but I loved the interaction between Jace and Max. What do you guys think about the letter? What about Clary drawing Jace? There's so much drama to enfold it's hard to write this chapter by chapter!**

**Thanks so much for your reviews!**

**I'll update as soon as possible because of how amazing all of you guys are! Cookies for everyone (::)(::)(::)**

**And I just edited this chapter, so it should be okay, hopefully.**


	6. Unfortunate Interventions

**Here it is...finally! Author's note at the end explains it all.**

_Unfortunate Interventions:_

**~Clary~**

I went headfirst into a wall of human flesh. I had every intention to apologize to whoever it was I just rammed into, but then my nose caught a waft of something disturbingly familiar. My insides froze when I dared myself to look up.

Jace Wayland.

My eyes locked with his gold ones. Neither of us could say anything.

"Clary!" Someone squealed. I looked down, grateful for the escape.

"Hi Max," I said, forcing a smile. There was no way I was going to willingly start a conversation with my worse enemy, so I pretended he wasn't there, even if it was impossibly hard considering we were standing chest to chest, crammed in the crevice of a door. "What are you doing here?"

Max nearly did a flip in the air. "I found a cat, Clary! Oh you should come over and see him! He's..._amazing_."

"And your mom is letting you keep him?" I asked, hardly able to hide the disbelief in my voice. I didn't know Isabelle's mom too well considering she was always out of town and Isabelle always came over to my place, but Isabelle made it clear that her mom didn't tolerate any pets.

The first time I was given the grand tour of her home, I noticed, to my amazement, that she had everything from an outdoor and indoor swimming pool, to a sports court, to flat screen TVs, to more clothes in her closet than on the shelves of Nordstrom. But, she didn't have a dog or a cat, let alone any animals running around, which I found surprising. So I asked about it and Isabelle grieved to me all about her beloved bunny Nibbles she had to let go when she was thirteen and gave me a long history of her mother's distaste for animals.

I'm sure Maryse liked animals, even if she wore the majority of them for clothes, it was just that she didn't like the mess they left in their tracks.

Who wouldn't want a pet if they could have one, though?

At this, Max frowned slightly. "She doesn't know yet. That's why Jace is helping me."

I couldn't help it and I looked up at the boy I hated with my every being, genuinely marveled; Jace and helping didn't go in the same sentence. His expression was unreadable, and so different from anything I've ever seen him wear.

Was he...embarrassed?

"That's so...nice," I managed, even though Jace was anything but nice. The fact that Jace was helping his little brother wasn't what had me stumped, it was that he was helping in general. Max and Jace had a special relationship, even I could see that. Max, though I had no clue why, looked up at Jace with awe, as if he were a hero or something. If it had been anyone else, I would've thought that it was adorable. But because it was Jace...

What was it that Max saw in him, I would never know, nor would I ever care.

When_ I_ looked up at Jace––yes he towered over me unfortunately, so I couldn't exactly look down at him––I saw a spoiled, arrogant, self-centered jerk, yet... I also saw a boy with promise that oozed charisma, someone so similar and dear to my heart that it hurt for me to ever compare...Jonathan to Jace Wayland.

"What are you doing here?" Jace asked, his voice coated with hostility.

"None of your business," I glared.

"Well, then could you maybe..._move_."

I felt my cheeks flush and I awkwardly stumbled backwards back inside the store. Jace lead Max past me, his arm brushed against mine, making me involuntarily flinch. I noticed that Bill was now standing behind the cash register, his eyes stern on a magazine, though I knew that he was listening.

_Why was I even here still?_

I made a move to leave when Jace stopped me. "What did you do to Isabelle?" His voice was apathetic and lazy, as if he really didn't care if I told him or not, but it unnerved me to the very core.

I whirled around.

I'm sure that even if Jace had said something like 'Hey, what's up?' I still would've been angry with him––anything that came out of his mouth was a nuisance. But, when he said something reprimanding, even if it wasn't intentional...big mistake.

In that moment, I wanted nothing more to rip his head off, but there was a little boy standing in between us. Max was carelessly examining collars, unaware of what a jerk his brother was. It wasn't even that Jace had said anything_ that_ bad, not really, but because he assumed that I had done something and asked me in front of his little brother––how dare he?

I bit my tongue as Jace stared me down.

There was so much I wanted to say to him, so much I wanted to know about what Isabelle had told him, but I couldn't, not without regretting it. "What?" I asked lamely.

He shrugged. "I don't know...she was upset when I left her this morning. And I remember her telling me that she was spending the night at your house...so? What did you do?"

What did I do to her––In all honesty, what _didn't_ I do? I nearly killed her!

"You're..." I trailed off, pushing my anger down. "Nothing. I didn't do anything," I finished. But hadn't I? Even if it wasn't entirely my fault, Simon didn't like her because of me, and I didn't want to tell her what had happened, and I nearly got us into an accident.

Boy was I really bad friend, but I would never tell that to Jace––why would I? He was..._Jace_.

"Or at least I didn't mean too..."

"Mean to do what?" Jace asked.

_Had I really said that out loud?_

"Stop," I snarled at him.

His eyes widened and he put up both of his hands. "What did I do?"

"Just _stop_," I said. But I didn't even know what I wanted him to stop doing. To stop talking to me?Stop pressing me? Stop breathing? To stop confusing me? "I––"_ hate you_. I couldn't bring myself to say it, not here, but I'm sure my eyes gave it away.

Jace could only look at me. He didn't even smirk or sneer, he just seemed to be taking all of me in––how crazy I probably was.

"What's wrong Clary?" Max asked quietly. A better question:_ What _wasn't_ wrong?_ I must look insane. I was fighting an inner battle as well as a feud with Jace that I didn't understand.

"Nothing," I told him softly. "I'll see you later––and Jace, make sure to have that essay finished."

I thought, and so desperately hoped, that Jace would let me go, but he always had to have the last word. "Eh...I'm actually going to a party tonight," he drawled out, just as I was about to turn towards the door for the third time. "Maybe I'll work on it tomorrow if I can find time."

"You have to be kidding me!" I exclaimed, overwhelmed with new resentment. I rocked steadily back on my feet. "Jace, we had a deal! I give you a ride to the game, you write the essay that I had to rewrite because of you."

Jace smiled coyly and I almost forgot that we weren't without company. Bill and Max watched discretely from the sidelines waiting to see what would unfold. "That did sound like a deal at the time, didn't it?" He raised his eyebrows.

Of course, why was I so stupid?! I couldn't _make_ him write the essay and I also couldn't just take away the ride I had so stupidly given him the night before. Was he really going to stoop that low?

Of course he was.

"Relax Taffy," Jace snorted before I could explode. "It'll be on your desk, with your name on it, before Mr. Starkweather can walk through the door."

Deep in my gut, no matter how hard it was to dish it forward and rely on, I knew that Jace wasn't lying. Jace was many things but he wasn't a liar (for my sake he _couldn't_ be a liar). I had no choice but to believe him––and just to be safe I could make a draft, if I had time, that I could turn in if all else failed.

His smoldering eyes read: _just trust me._

"Okay," I stifled. "It better be." Then I turned my back on him for good, sending a brief wave behind me for Max and Bill.

I'm an idiot.

* * *

**~Jace~**

Of all the people in this crowded city, Clary Fairchild?

She really hated me, didn't she? I could tell, especially today, by how her eyes darkened as soon as she saw me, how her entire demeanor stiffened, how she _talked_ to me.

It's not like it was bothering me to the point where I was pulling out my hair, but I still don't know why Clary particularly acted the way she did towards me. She was so nice to everyone else, but as soon as she saw me...an entirely different story. I mean, yeah, I left her in the rain a day ago, but she's had this bitchy grudge towards me since before the dinosaurs roamed the Earth––actually ever since I met her (three years ago).

Believe it or not, Clary and I met each other even before she and Isabelle became friends. It was the first day of freshman year and I was completely lost, trying to find my way to the science lab. I had been in such a hurry and focussed that when I rounded a corner I didn't have any time to put on the brakes before I crashed into a girl half my size––which was really tiny considering I wasn't too big at the time––with bright red hair.

Yup, that's how it all started. Clary and I ran into each other, much like today, only three years ago we ended up sprawled out across the floor, and she was wearing glasses...that just so happened to get smashed under my ass.

I'm not going to lie, when I first saw Clary I thought she was pretty cute, so, being me, I tried to dazzle her with my smile. Of course, she couldn't exactly see me, so that's when I made the conscious decision to return her glasses, in which looked completely ridiculous and damaged beyond repair when she put them back on. However, even though I had ruined her glasses, Clary, all while straightening out her already straight blouse, told me how sorry she was over and over again. "I'm so sorry––I was just in such a rush and I wasn't looking and I just...I'm so sorry––"

Then her eyes, behind cracked glass, met mine.

The shy and innocent girl I had mistook her as was gone, replaced by a hostile bitch. Her soft green eyes had turned brittle and her jaw had clenched, as if I was some guy she already knew, that she just happened to already hate. At the time, I was utterly confused by the sudden change of behavior, and could only stare as she got to her feet and stormed away from me without another word. I have no idea why I even bothered, but I tried to confront her the next day, only to get shoved aside and given a famous dosage of Clary's silent treatment.

After that, she did her very best to avoid me and I tried to forget about her, that is until we ran into each other yet again a few weeks later, only this time...In. My. House. Ha, the look on her face had been priceless.

I learned that Clary was my sister's best friend and that I'd be running into her a lot more whether I liked it or not.

So, it was really Clary who started our bad blood, I just didn't do anything to help; If a girl was going to hate me I was going to make sure to give her a reason.

But why me? What had I done––besides break her glasses? There was way more behind Clary's dislike for me, and if I really cared, I would ask her about it.

"Trouble with your ex?" A gruff voice sent me whirling out of my reverie.

_Wow, had I really just been staring at the door for the past five minutes?_

I was faced with a fatter, harrier, and nicer looking Mr. Warden. Now this guy could be Santa Claus. "_No_. No-no."

The man chortled. "Uh-huh. So you two are current lovers? Why don't you quit staring and go after her."

Eesh...Clary...my _lover_? Barf. So much for Santa Claus. "_No_! She _hates_ me. I hate her. We are in no way involved romantically."

His bushy gray eyebrows rose doubtfully and he turned to the next page of the magazine that he wasn't even reading. "Really?"

"_Yes_," I all but hissed. Was this man blind? Maybe he needed his glasses checked because I know he was standing behind that desk when Clary looked about ready to tear my eyes from my sockets. That's not exactly "lover" behavior...maybe his wife is abusive...

"Oh okay," the jolly, annoying man laughed. "Just odd that a pretty girl would hate you."

It did sound a bit weird. I mean, I was pretty attractive and popular among the female population, and the only girls that didn't like me were Isabelle and Clary.

"Yeah, well it's mutual," I said flatly, as a reminder. "I hate her too."

At this the man let out a bark of laughter. "You sure?"

I slapped my hand to my face.

"I'm Bill," he said, extending his short, chubby arm. I took his hand in mine, despite his bad judgement, and gave him a solid shake.

"Jace."

Bill looked me up and down with his small blue eyes and then reached towards a stack of papers positioned on the edge of the desk. "Well Jace, I know the employer doesn't ask you if you want a job usually, but you're a charming young man and if you're interested..."

I took the job application in my hands and scanned it over. "I'll have to pass for right now," I told him, genuinely sorry. It's not like I had a problem with working it's just I got a weekly allowance of fifty bucks, and that was without doing anything. If I needed extra money in the future however, a pet store might not be that bad.

Bill shrugged, "Just take it in case you ever change your mind."

"Thanks," I nodded. "So, is this store yours?"

"Sure is. My little Tessie's gone off to college a couple months ago though, so I've been having trouble running it by myself."

"Oh...well I hope you get some new workers."

"Me too," Bill sighed before letting out another fit of chuckles. "Working here is great, love the animals."

I was just about to tell him about Chairman Meow when there was a loud crash. "JACE!" Max shouted.

_Max._

I spun around, suddenly aware that my little brother was no longer standing beside me. "Max?"

"Help Jace!"

Regrettably I followed his cry, racing to the back of the store. Sure enough, behind aisle 7 was Max...surrounded by cat food.

* * *

**~Clary~**

As soon as I got home I collapsed on my couch with a groan.

Why did my life suck so badly?

Why did I keep running into him?

Why did I _draw_ him?

Why was my phone ringing?

I dished my phone out of my back pocket and gulped before I pressed it to my ear. "Hi Isabelle."

"Clary," she said with a breath. "Are you feeling better?"

I could always lie and postpone having to tell her the truth, but I knew that wasn't going to do anything but make matters worse. I'll have to tell her eventually. "Yes...thank you."

"Look...I'm really sorry if I woke you up, I know it's still pretty early, but I just really want to talk to you. Would it be okay if I came over now?"

No. No. No. "Yeah," I said while my stomach churned. "Sure."

"Okay," Isabelle said, her voice light and happy, "great! I'll see you in a bit."

"Mhmm."

_What have I done?_

* * *

**Okay, so this chapter was so frustrating. It would've been a lot longer and better if the first draft wasn't deleted. It was hard to replicate everything and write another 3,000 words about what I already wrote about, so chapter 7 is going to be updated a lot sooner and be a whole lot better to make it up to you guys.**

**I hope it's not terrible and give me some feedback; maybe if I get bored I'll go back and make a new chapter 6.**

**All of your support is amazing and I'm so sorry to keep all of you waiting. I promise it wasn't intentional.**

**OH AND I JUST FINISHED MAKING THE OUTLINE OF THE STORY! Let's just say, it's gonna get interesting..**

**Until next time...**


	7. It's Okay

**Wow, 100 followers? Thanks so much and I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

_It's Okay:_

**~Clary~**

Sitting there, waiting for that knock on the door to come was excruciating. I was a nervous mess, biting my nails, fiddling with the ends of my hair, breathing in labored pants.

I knew that there was no good outcome. She was going to hate me.

It was so hard to think about going on with my life without Isabelle in it. We've been through so much together. I honestly wish that I could go back in time to when we first met, when we had slumber parties practically everyday, when we weren't so worried about boys. When Isabelle thought of Simon as just a dork.

Isabelle was the one that walked with me to classes, that sat with me everyday at lunch, that would talk on the phone for hours with me. She was like my other half.

When I was with her, though the thought of my past was still lingering around, it wasn't so persistent and vivid. I felt normal and able to act like how a teenage girl should act.

_No._

Even though I had been anticipating it, when I heard the three knocks echo throughout the apartment, I jumped.

I slowly rose to my feet and took my time reaching the door, hoping that I'd be able to recollect myself in the pathetic seconds I gained myself. _Just be honest, Clary._

Then, I opened the door. Isabelle stood there with a small smile wearing no makeup, in a trench coat and jeans––completely out of character. Where was her revealing top and heels? She looked like any ordinary teenager, well except for the fact that she had the face and hair of a supermodel.

"Hi," we both said together. I managed a shaky laugh.

"Come in." I stepped to the side and Isabelle sneaked past me.

_Oh boy, now I was really going to have to tell her._

I heard everything a hundred times louder. Every step she took away from me, further into the apartment, was as crisp as stepping on leaves.

I couldn't lose her.

"Where's your mom?" She asked eventually, and I almost missed it over the booming of my heartbeat.

"Oh..." I trailed off, shutting the door. I still had no idea where she was. I resorted to calling her a few minutes ago, hoping that just talking to her would calm me down, but she sent me to voicemail."Uh, I'm not sure. She left a note, but..."

"Oh."

"Yeah...did you drive here yourself?" I turned around to face her and saw that she was already sitting on the couch. This was _so_ awkward, so unlike how things usually were between us. Why was the air so tense and frozen? Why couldn't I just tell her?

Isabelle, I could tell was trying to act normal, but the smile she kept plastered to her face was anything but. "No. Alec, he uh, drove me."

"Oh..."

"Yeah...aren't you going to sit down?"

"Oh," I stifled and moved my seemingly immobile feet one small step at a time until I reached the foot of the couch. I looked down at the red cushion and smiled before I sat down as stiff as a board. _Relax. Relax. Relax._

"So," Isabelle began, her eyes flickering back and forth between me and the window. "Simon––what happened?"

"Nothing," I said, "really."

Isabelle gave me an eyebrow. "Nothing?"

_Just tell her Clary!_

"Yup," I breathed. "Simon...uh...he––when I asked him about who he liked he said that he...uh...didn't know." I wanted to slap myself right then and there. God, I'm such an awful liar.

I nervously looked over at Isabelle to see her reaction, but there honestly wasn't much of one. She leaned back against the couch and twisted her lips together. "So, he didn't say?"

"Nope," I said. _Yeah he said who he liked, it just happened to be me._

"Well...okay, that's better than what I thought you were going to say I guess," Isabelle said. "But...why were you guys so...upset afterwards?"

_Shoot._ I really hadn't thought that part through.

"Um." I tried to laugh. "Simon asked me about...what...I thought about his band name."_ Yes!_ "And uh, I told him that I think they should think of a new one."

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Clary, I'm not that stupid. Why were you crying?"

"I uh...I...I don't know."

"You don't know?" Isabelle's voice had suddenly raised two octaves. "_Clary_. Stop lying and just tell me the truth! You said that you would tell me."

Deep breath.

"Okay...Isabelle when I talked to Simon I tried to get it across to him that you liked him, but when he finally figured it out...he was surprised," I said slowly, trying to keep myself from stuttering.

Isabelle let out a small gasp. "What? He didn't know that I liked him?"

I shook my head. "I know, I asked him the same thing."

"Okay, I'm assuming there's more to the story?" Isabelle leaned in closer and I felt my entire being grow cold.

Now this was going to be the nasty part.

_Okay, just tell her...One. Two. Three...four...five...six––_

_Just do it!_

"Yeah, but it's really not _that _important," I tried, hoping that she'd go for it, but her expression told me otherwise. I cleared my throat and regrettably decided to tell her everything. "Simon thought that when I was giving hints about...who liked him...that I was talking about...well, me––"

"_What_?" Isabelle snapped. "He thought that _you_ liked him?"

I nodded, unable to look at anything but my lap. "And he said that he liked...me."

Isabelle stayed quiet, and if I thought that it was awkward before...

"And so I told him that I didn't feel the same way and he got...mad, I guess," I finished quickly.

Now I was officially caught in the mouse trap. There was no turning back now, no just forgetting about it, no just moving forward. Doing the right thing and telling her the truth was going to be a huge mistake, I could feel it.

Then Isabelle suddenly stood up. She moved so fast that I had no time to react before she was already by the door. "Isabelle––wait!" I said, rushing after her.

She spun around and I don't think I've ever seen her look so angry, well at least not at me. "I just need to think, Clary."

"Are you mad?" I asked the obvious.

She let out a short huff of air and then raked her fingers through her hair. "No––well, I don't know. Yes. Maybe. I mean, it's not your fault that...Simon...likes you, but...it's just––I'm just a little weirded out."

"I tried to tell him, I'm so sorry Isabelle," I told her. "I didn't even know that he had...a thing for me."

At that she scoffed, surprising me and making my eyes sting. "You didn't know? You're kidding right––he's_ always_ looking at you! Not me, _you_. I guess somewhere deep down I knew it, but I just didn't want to believe it."

"Isabelle I really thought that he liked you," I said, "you have to trust me."

Her face softened slightly. "Clary, you're acting as if you're afraid I'm never going to talk to you again. Did you think that by telling me I'd hate you?"

"Well..." _yeah_.

"I could never hate you Clary––you still are and will always be my best friend. But right now...I'm just frustrated. It's a lot to handle you know; finding out the boy you've been crushing on likes someone else, especially when that someone else is you."

"That's why I didn't want to say anything," I agreed heavily, in shock that Isabelle was still standing here with me.

She flattened her hands over her jean pockets and rubbed her lips together, contemplating on what to say next. "Still," she began, "you have to tell me these things, even if they're...well as bad as this. It's not fair for you to just keep it from me."

"Okay, I promise."

Then she wrapped her arms around me and I hugged her back tightly, so thankful.

* * *

**~Jace~**

Max and I got home about an hour after having to scoop up ten pounds of cat food. When we walked through the door, Max raced upstairs to feed Chairman Meow and I carried on to the kitchen, still starving even though I had eaten a bowl of cereal before we left.

I heard someone rustling around and my first thought was that Isabelle was still there, but when I reached the edge of the living room, I saw Alec, my older brother rummaging through the fridge. "Alec?"

"Oh," he jumped, slamming the fridge shut.

I laughed as I approached him. "Jumpy much?"

Alec gave me a tight smile and shook his head. "Nope, not at all––why would I be jumpy? What's up?"

"Oh..." I laughed, passing off his strange behavior and raised both of my eyebrows, "Well I don't know if you know yet but––"

"Isabelle told me, about the cat, I mean," Alec said.

_Oh thank you God! _"Yeah...so I took Max to that pet store."

"Mm," Alec sighed. It looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but here with me. He kept averting his attention from the island in the kitchen to the couches behind me and he refused to stop tapping his fingers against the sides of his pants.

Boy was he acting weird.

"Where were you last night?" I asked, trying to meet his gaze, but it was impossible. "I was going to ask you if I could use your car because I almost missed my game."

Alec sputtered out a shaky laugh, his blue eyes darting down to his feet. "Just a...friend's house––where's your car?"

"Well it's back now, but Maryse had to take it."

"Oh. I heard she's in Colorado."

"Yeah––wait," I said, leaning forward. Before Alec could lean away, I touched my index finger to his chin and pulled it away. "Why is there..._glitter_ all over your face?"

Alec scooted past me in the blink of an eye. "Oh, is there? Well I gotta go, see you later!" Then he was walking away, past the living room and down the hall.

"Al––!"

The door to the garage slammed shut.

* * *

**~Clary~**

"Okay, so you know Aline?" Isabelle asked sprawled out across the couch. We sat comfortably with the TV drawling out around us, as if nothing had ever happened.

"Yeah, she's in my gym class...why?"

"Well, are you guys friends?"

"Uh..." Aline Penhallow was nice enough, well at least to me anyways. She sent home five girls a day crying, was a cheerleader, had a new boyfriend every month, and in simpler terms, was extremely popular. It wasn't even like she was show-stopping beautiful like Isabelle, but for some reason––or because she was insanely rich––everyone put her at the top of the food chain.

I personally had no problem with her. Of course I didn't like how she treated others, but she was always friendly whenever we saw each other and gave me a hug.

"Yeah, I guess. Again, why are you asking?" I raised both of my eyebrows, but only because I couldn't raise just one.

Isabelle let a coy smile spread across her face. "Well...there's a party tonight at her house and everyone's going––"

"Meaning Jace," I cut in sharply, recalling my discussion with him earlier, in which I had yet to inform Isabelle about. I loved to party, but if there was even the slightest chance that I would run into that..._demon_, I wouldn't mind staying in for the night and doing nothing.

Isabelle shrugged, "Oh come on, how am I supposed to know?" But she and I both knew that he was going to be there. Jace Wayland was literally like the god of our school, unfortunately. He went to every party, club, and get-together there was, and even though hundreds of other kids attended, whenever I decided to go, I always_, _and I mean _always _ran into him.

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest, "Well I don't know, your brother's a party animal."

Isabelle pushed out her cheeks and slammed her hands against the cushion on either side of her. "Who cares if he's going to be there! It's not like we have to dance with him. Oh please Clary, it'll be fun!"

"No."

"Yes!"

"No!"

"No," Isabelle smiled.

"Yes," I said before I could stop myself. "Wait––no!" Then I cursed under my breath.

Isabelle jumped to her feet and let out a triumphant cheer, "Ha! I knew it would work eventually."

I slumped deeper into the couch, "Fine," I groaned.

"Okay so you grab a nice dress and then we'll drive over to my house to get ready."

"Isabelle," I said in disbelief, "it's only nine-something in the morning!"

"Your point?"

* * *

I rummaged around in my pathetic excuse of a closet. On the far right-hand side I had at least five presentable dresses that I just alternated between every time I went out.

It was a party, not to mention a party at Aline Penhallow's mansion, so my best bet was to go big. I hesitantly retrieved my short, red dress that matched the color of my hair. It reflected little beams of light with even the slightest bit of motion and as Isabelle liked to say, it was "the most glamorous thing I owned." Though Isabelle towered over me and had curves in which I could only dream of having, she had the same size feet as me and she had at least a dozen different shoes that would match my selection.

As I strolled back into the living room, Isabelle was leaning over the island in the kitchen, _clacking_ her nails against the granite. Her eyes and smile widened with approval upon seeing the vibrant bundle I held in my arms, "I was hoping you were going to choose that dress."

"Yeah, well––"

Then the phone began to ring. It was so sudden that I nearly did a flip in the air. "Who could that be?" Isabelle asked, a little flustered herself, "Your mom?"

I shrugged, "I don't think so. She'd call my cell."

Isabelle traveled over to the counter parallel to her and picked up our home-phone from its cradle. "Huh...no caller-ID."

"Probably just some idiots prank calling," I suggested.

Its ringing carried on and Isabelle held it to her ear, "Hello?"

Her face twisted with confusion. "Um...who's this?" She paused as if to listen before responding carefully, "No, I'm sorry...Mrs. Fairchild isn't home right now...My name's Isabelle...do you want to speak with her?"

"Who is it?" I asked, approaching her quickly.

Isabelle held out the phone for me, "Says it's for you...?"

I took the phone, "Hello, who is this?"

"Clarissa, is that you––?" I instantly paled and ended the call. _No. No. No. It's Impossible._

I suddenly felt queasy and I must've looked it too because Isabelle's hands were suddenly on my shoulders to steady me. "Clary? What's wrong––who was that?" She looked so blurry and far away. I couldn't register what she was saying––_I just heard _his_ voice_.

"No one," I said quickly, shaking my head, trying to come up with a different truth._ He couldn't of gotten ahold of us. _

Was that really him? It could've been someone else, but there was no other person with that maliciously velvet, song-like tone.

I had just spoken to my father for the first time in nearly six years.

* * *

I still remember the first time I ever saw my father hit my mother. Jonathan and I were so young, just sitting on a stuffy couch in our new motorhome. Mom and Dad were fighting in the back room, like always, and I clung to my older brother for comfort. Their shouts overpowered the movie, _Finding Nemo _our mom had put on for us, hoping it would act as a distraction.

Behind the closed door, their shouts were muffled, but explicit nonetheless. Then, the two of them had suddenly stormed out into the open. Our father had held our mother by the arm and practically dragged her to the opposite side of the room, towards us. "Stop it now!" she had shrieked.

"I want our children to see what happens when you defy me, Jocelyn!" He'd roared. Then he raised his giant hand in the air and it struck our mom right across the face, her body falling to the ground like deadweight.

Jonathan had been quick to jump to his feet, pushing me back when I tried to do the same. "Leave our mom alone!"

Our father had simply laughed and kneeled in front of Jonathan, his size destroying his son's in both height and weight. A smile had spread across his terrifying features as he leaned in closer so that they stood nose-to-nose. With his cold, black eyes narrowed and his confidence soaring, our father had said six simple words: "Go take out the trash, _now_."

At the time I had been so terrified that I couldn't even move, not even to run to my own mother. My stomach had been churning abnormally as the monster approached me and Jonathan left through the front door. When my father ended up sitting next to me on the couch, he pulled me onto his lap and kissed the top of my head. He'd cooed to me over and over, "You're my good girl Clarissa," while his wife laid motionless on the ground.

* * *

"Clary! Come on, please snap out of it!" I suddenly became aware of Isabelle's cries and I shook my head, blinking away tears. I realized that I was trembling from my toes to my fingers. "Clary––are you okay? Clary?"

How could he have found us? For all I knew, he was in prison, or at least still living in that motorhome in Texas with a restraining order. My mother never told me exactly what had happened to him; she thought it was best if I didn't have to worry about it.

Isabelle's eyes met mine and I glanced down at my feet. "Let's get out of here."

She seemed shocked at my sudden change in behavior, but she followed me as I walked towards the door.

What else could I do but escape?

* * *

**~Jace~**

When I went outside to meet Jordan, I rolled my eyes upon seeing Clary's stupid truck parked in front of the fountain. I didn't even know she was here, but maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

Jordan leaned out the window of his Jeep, parked right behind Clary's piece of junk, and honked his horn. "Come on pretty boy! Maia wants me to meet her there early!"

I shook my head and climbed into the passenger side. "Do you have that essay?"

Jordan waggled his eyebrows and opened his dashboard to reveal the goods. "Thank God," I laughed, nudging his arm. I'm not even sure why I felt the need to carry out my agreement with Clary, but I felt relieved knowing that I could. Maybe I should tell her that I forgot when I saw her on Monday, just to see what she'd do. She made messing with her all the more enjoyable when her face turned six shades darker.

"So...did you hear what I said?" Jordan asked cautiously as he put his truck in reverse carelessly.

I gave him a look. "About what?"

Jordan groaned. "About _Maia_. She's going to be there and she wants to meet up."

I smirked. "Do you want me to give you a hug and a 'Congratulations'?"

Jordan glared up ahead as the gate slowly opened. "I think you'll understand once you see her."

"You got it bad."

Jordan smiled slightly. "I don't know, she's a pretty cool girl. Did you know she came to our game yesterday?"

"To see us lose," I added bitterly. I was still fuming about it.

"Relax man. It was only one game. We'll destroy the Cougars next week."

"Yeah, but they suck! We shouldn't of lost yesterday."

Jordan knew it was futile to argue with me so he just sighed and cranked up the stereo. We drove about fifteen minutes in silence until we turned into a neighborhood, much like mine, with cars crammed together all along the sides of the road. "So, do you think we're the only ones here?" I asked, with a slight grin.

Jordan raised his eyebrows and slammed his head against his steering wheel.

* * *

**Okay so, it took me a little extra time to get this chapter up, but last week I started my first week of ninth grade, IN HIGH SCHOOL! I can't even begin to describe how nervous I was, but in the end I had nothing to be nervous about. High school's just middle school with more freedom, really.**

**Hope you guys liked this chapter!**

**And from now on, I will be updating at least once a week, most likely on Friday after school, Saturday, or Sunday! The speed of this story is about to move quicker, and I'm pretty excited about that because it's hard having to write EVERYTHING so it makes sense and not just what you want.**

**Can't wait for some Clace...**


	8. Let's Dance

**Okay, you're welcome. TOTALLY KIDDING! But, I decided to update two chapters in two days as a thanks to all of you amazing supporters out there! Reading your reviews really gives me a lot of encouragement and they mean a lot, so, THANKS!3**

* * *

_Let's Dance:_

**~Jace~**

_Woah, why is everything so fuzzy?_

I held my hands out in front of me just to make sure they were still there and attempted to walk, but for some reason I couldn't move more than two steps without tumbling into someone or something. The ceiling and floors seemed to be making a sandwich out of me and I crouched my body together so I wouldn't get smashed.

There were so many people, their bodies a blur of vibrant flashes of colors as they jumped up and down to the beat of the music.

This was such a nice song. If only I could understand the lyrics...

These floors were _so_ shiny. My fingers tingled as I rubbed them carefully across the glossy wood. _So smooth_.

A bark of laughter escaped me as I swayed to my feet, and then I did a 360, fascinated by the colors and voices that morphed together. When I leaned against a wall for support, my eyelids felt heavy as I surveyed the room. _What time was it? _My gaze shifted to a girl with a curtain of red hair that seemed to blend in with the scrap of a dress she wore.

She was the only thing that wasn't fuzzy. She was so bright.

I began to tumble towards her, knocking into person after person like a bowling ball. Before I could even register what I was about to do, I began to poke the girl's arm to get her attention. She whirled around, making my head spin slightly, and I was met with a pair of green eyes that seemed to widen with surprise.

I kept a grin plastered to my face and then I leaned in closer so that she would hear me better, my nose touching hers. "Excuse me miss! DO YOU KNOW WHY THE ROOM IS MOVING?"

She immediately recoiled, clutching her hands to her ears. "My God, Jace, I'm not deaf! What the hell is––?" then she began to giggle and I smiled at the sound of it. "You're _so_ drunk."

I rubbed the back of my head and let out a yawn. "Do you know where I can find a bathtub? I like to be clean before I go to bed."

She giggled even harder. "A _bathtub_?" She exclaimed, "Jace, do you know where you are right now––do you know who _I _am?"

I stumbled closer and gently retrieved a red curl off of her shoulder, admiring its silky texture. "You're really beautiful and _still_," I told her softly. Had I ever personally used the word "beautiful" before? I have no clue, but it sounded right.

"And you're insane," she said quickly. "Jace, do you know who brought you here? You need to go home and lie down."

"I want to stay right here," I slurred, "with you."

"_No_, you don't."

"Yesssss."

My nose caught a waft of something that resembled green apples and strawberries. I followed my nose towards the girl and settled my forehead to hers, taking in a big sniff and letting out a satisfied sigh. "You smell _amazing_."

"And_ you_ smell like alcohol," she informed me. "Now, would you please remove your face from mine and take two steps back so I'm not trapped up against a wall?"

"You have a freckle right beneath your eyebrow," I observed with awe.

"_Jace_, I have freckles _all_ _over _my _face_," she snapped. I couldn't register whether or not she sounded amused or irritated.

"Nooo," I chuckled, eager to prove her wrong. "This one's different."

Then I let my fingers trail up her soft jaw, and over her eyelid that appeared to be squeezed shut, and settled them right above the freckle. "I need to get me one of these," I said.

"You need to _snap out of it_," she practically growled. I laughed at the curt sound of it.

"You're like a lion, _rawwwrrrr_," I imitated.

"And you're a bozo!" I felt my chest get shoved away and then I was stumbling back, trying to regain my balance. "Jace," the girl said, her voice on the verge of being angry. "Listen to me, okay? _Okay_?"

I nodded, smiling. I was getting lectured by a short person. "You're going to stay right here. I'm going to go find your sister––Isabelle––do you remember her?"

"Is-a-belle," I sounded out, the combination fascinating. "Is-a-belle––"

"Ughh, you're pointless," she then exclaimed. "Okay, just stay here. I'm going to be right back!"

I caught hold of her hand and pulled her back. "No, don't leave."

She yanked her hand away with annoyance, but then seemed to fail at trying to contain her laughter. "J-Jace. I'll be _right _back."

"I like it when you laugh," I told her, the words coming out with a mind of their own. "It sounds like a song."

"Just stay here," she sighed.

I blinked and then she was gone. I tried to spin around in order to catch a glimpse of her, but she was sucked up in the cluster of buzzing bodies, leaving me all alone.

* * *

**~Clary~**

Okay, that was probably the weirdest ten minutes of my life. A drunk Jace Wayland was a ludicrous...and almost _nice_ one.

I wonder how much he had to drink!

I weaved in and out of the mass of dancing people, trying to find Isabelle and her hot pink dress. Why I was trying to help Jace, I had no idea, but I couldn't just leave him here in his state. That'd be inhumane, even if he was the boy I hated with all of my guts. He was probably drunk enough to rob a bank without even realizing it––I'm sure that that wouldn't happen, but what if it did? And what if I heard about it on the news the next day? Then I'd get arrested for neglecting him––_My God, Clary. You sound almost as crazy as him!_

"Thank God," I muttered upon seeing Isabelle grinding up against some dude––wait, definitely _not_ what I wanted to see. I stalked towards her and coughed loudly. "Uh...Isabelle...can I, uh, talk to you...in private?" I guess she's moved on from Simon at least...

Isabelle sighed and cast a sympathetic look towards her partner. "Sorry Jerry, I'll see you around."

"It's Terry," he growled.

* * *

Isabelle threw her hands up in the air. "What do you want? I was having a good time!"

I was still trying to erase the image of her and Terry having a "good time" and let my eyes flicker down to my black pumps in attempt to make the situation less awkward. _Not helping._ "I'm...sorry?"

"Yeah, well, you interrupted for a reason so...?"

"I know this is going to sound weird, especially coming from me, but we need to drive Jace home––"

"_What_?! _Jace _as in my brother? What the––?"

"He's really drunk."

Isabelle groaned. "Like how drunk?"

"He called me beautiful," I said.

"This is serious."

* * *

**~Jace~**

Where was she? I looked down at my invisible watch, but it was broken and failed to read me an actual time. The spinning in my head had lessened, but it was replaced by a dull ache. The music seemed to zone in and out and there was two of everything I saw. I was so out of it.

"Hey there handsome," a low voice cooed. It sounded feminine and I blinked a few times, trying to see if I could find the girl from earlier, but instead there was a different girl. This one had big blue eyes and long blonde hair. Where was the little red one?

"Hiiii!" I tried with a smile.

She had bright pink lips when she smiled and I nearly laughed at how blurry they seemed; I couldn't even see her teeth. "I'm Kaelie Somers. I just moved here from Pittsburgh."

"Mmm," I said. "Jaacee."

"That's a hot name," she giggled. "It's fitting."

I was momentarily distracted by the lights reflecting off of the disco ball in background and I stumbled forward slightly, tumbling into Kaelie. She giggled again, this time more high pitch and so different from that of the other girl's. "If you wanted to dance, all you had to do was ask."

Then she was pulling on the hem of my shirt, guiding me further into the mass of people. Before she placed her hands on my shoulders, she placed mine around her hips, and then we began to sway back and forth, the simple motion making me want to be sick. "So, Monday's my first day at St. Xavier's. Anything I should be worried about?" She asked.

I squinted my left eye and twisted my lips. "Yeah."

She raised both of her eyebrows, "Like what?"

I felt as if I'd vomit the next time I opened my mouth so I just shrugged. "Let's just dance," I replied quickly.

"Awe, are you shy Jace?" She said.

"No, not at all."

She mumbled something that I couldn't comprehend and then I felt her lips touching the corner of my mouth. "Do you think you could show me around––at school, I mean?"

I nodded.

"Good. I don't want to be scared on my first day." Then she was kissing me and, unaware, I started kissing her, like it was my second nature. Her fingers tangled in the loose curls of my hair and she pulled me closer, and I didn't do anything to stop her.

* * *

**~Clary~**

I lead Isabelle to where I left Jace, and, not surprising, he wasn't there. "Where did he go?" I groaned.

Then Isabelle tugged on my arm and I followed her gaze. I immediately saw Jace, but he was wrapped in a girl's embrace and they were sucking each other's faces off. My chest tightened involuntarily and my neck got hot––_why_ though? Isabelle cleared her throat, "I think he looks fine to me, Clary."

I nodded, "Y-yeah."

"He works fast, I'll give him that," Isabelle said. "Even when he's drunk girls love him. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go find Jerry."

"It's Terry," I mumbled, but Isabelle was already shimmying away. I tore my eyes away from Jace and his new bimbo, feeling oddly hesitant.

* * *

Usually, I loved to dance. But I didn't want to be the awkward loner that started to bust a move with no partner. I drifted off to the sidelines and pat my hands against the wall behind me, bored beyond belief. Why couldn't some super hot dude come in and literally sweep me off my feet? Isabelle spent hours to perfect my look and I had to endure hours off plucking and pulling and brushing. I think I was worthy enough to get asked to dance!_  
_

But definitely _not _by the boy now standing in front of me. Sebastian Verlac.

Boy was he handsome and mysterious with his fair skin, smoldering dark eyes, and hair as black as night. All of his features were sharp and chiseled from his face to his toned physique. He was popular, captain of the basketball team, and did I mention hot yet? But, with Sebastian came an unwanted relationship.

Sebastian and I dated for about six months last year. He'd been my first real boyfriend and treated me really good, in the beginning. But then he became overly attached and called me like every twenty minutes. He got super protective of me and would get mad when a random guy asked me a harmless question. Once, he nearly punched Simon!

I called it quits when he "prohibited" me from wearing a pair of denim shorts.

"Clary, you look stunning," he smiled his oh so beautiful smile.

"Thanks," I said flatly.

He chuckled and placed a hand to his chest in mock hurt. "I miss you, did you know that?"

"Maybe we should...catch up some time," I tried, but that was the last thing I wanted.

Sebastian sighed and raked a hand through his already tousled hair. "Look, I know I messed up last year and there isn't a day that goes by when I don't regret it. You know how much you mean to me, Clary, and I was just..._drunk_ with the thought that you were mine. You're my girl."

"I'm not your anything, Sebastian. And that doesn't mean you can beat up an innocent guy just because he wanted to know what the homework was last night. Everyone was afraid to talk to me because they knew you were my boyfriend," I told him. This conversation sounded a lot like the previous ones I've had with him scattered throughout this year.

"I've changed, I promise," he says, his tone sincere. "Just give me another chance. Maybe we can go to that club, the Pandemonium, that you love so much. You don't even have to go as my date, just as my friend. I really miss you being in my life and I'll do anything to get you back in it."

I sighed defeated. "Sebastian––"

"Please Clary. Since we broke up, I can't even look at another girl. It kills me that you try to avoid me at school. I miss being able to walk you to your classes, and being able to put my arm around you, miss kissing you." He slowly inched towards me until there was only a centimeter in between us. "Just give me one chance to make it right."

"Pandemonium, next Saturday, pick me up at seven," I gave in. It wasn't like I had feelings for Sebastian. I mean, of course there would always be that lingering spark because we were together at one time, but I had completely moved on from him. I know giving him what he wanted was a stupid decision and that he'd try to take it further, but the guy was determined. He'd keep asking and asking, so, what was the harm in one night out with my ex?

A triumphant smile appeared over his face and he slowly grabbed my right hand. "Let's dance."

* * *

**Sorry for it being kinda short, but I wrote this a few hours so...**

**What do you guys think about Jace being drunk? Ha, I thought he was adorable. Was Clary, dare I say it, jealous? Do you guys like Sebastian?**

**Next chapter will be called _Miserable_...what do you guys think that means?**

**I'll give you a hint: DRAMA.**

**I know a lot of you like those fics where Jace and Clary immediately fall in love, and if that's what you're looking for, I'm sorry...but this is not the story for you. I promise that there'll be a Clace, and when it happens I'm going to do my best to make it beautiful and real (but I'm only a ninth grader so...)**

**This fanfic IS going somewhere. In fact, the outline is already complete, for those of you who didn't read my previous author's note. If you're really dying to get a better idea about where this story's going, PM me and I'll give you some clues––not major ones, but...**

**Suggestions are always welcome.**

**Until next time, peace.**


	9. Miserable

_Miserable:_

**~Jace~**

Warm breath tickled my neck and I woke with a start, only to realize that there was another person _on top_ of me. Luckily it was a chick. We were a body-sandwich sprawled out across a couch––_man_ did I have a headache! The girl stifled a sound and then her eyes blinked open, revealing big blue irises surrounded by black eyeliner that was smudged on her cheeks more than anything.

_What…?_

She appeared to be just as confused as I was, but only momentarily, because as soon as she got over the initial shock that she was using my chest as her bed, she seemed to know who I was and smiled groggily. "What time is it?"

"Uh...not that I mind but uh...who are you?" I managed, nearly wincing at the pounding in my head. I could barely keep my eyes open with this vicious light.

She pursed her lips and carefully detached her body from mine, sitting stiffly beside me when I shifted positions. "Do you not…?" she trailed off and laughed tiredly, hiding her head in her hands. "Well this is awkward."

"At least we're not naked." I could barely register the words as they left my mouth, not able to take them back once I realized how bad they sounded.

The girl only laughed. Besides the fact that she had a racoon face and a nest of bright blonde hair, she was pretty, and that was hard to pull off considering we just woke up. "So you don't remember anything?"

"Sorry, not at all," I confirmed. "All I can remember is my friend Jordan driving me here, dancing, and having a few drinks."

"A few?" She asked in disbelief, a neat eyebrow arching upwards. "You're lucky I found you when I did."

I laughed, trying to think of the craziest thing I could've done last night. I'd never know though, I couldn't even remember the girl I supposedly slept with. Okay not _slept_ with...fell _asleep_ with.

I was surprised to find that we were still in Aline's living room. I took a look around and inwardly reeled, already having nightmares for the poor person that had to clean this place up. There were red solo cups everywhere, balloons, streamers, Cheetos, cans of soda, toilet paper on the intricate light fixture hanging above us, and a few people scattered here and there, some without shirts, and others...without pants.

I shuddered. Now I'll never be able to get that picture out of my head.

"Did I…" I was almost too afraid to ask. "Did I...do or say anything stupid?"

She shrugged. "I don't know...what do you call 'stupid'?"

"Oh man," I sighed, taking a tired hand through my hair. "I'm apologizing right now for––"

"Calm down," she giggled. "You couldn't of done anything that bad, right? Not if I ended up sleeping…" the girl slightly blushed, "on you."

I held out my hand to her, eager to stop referring to her as "the girl". "I'm Jace Wayland. I wish I could say that I knew you, but I'm positive that I would've remembered seeing a girl as pretty as you at school."

"Kaelie Somers," Kaelie blushed. "And actually I just moved here about a week ago from Pittsburgh. I'm starting at St. Xavier's on Monday."

"Huh. So, if you don't mind me asking, how'd you end up at this party if you've never gone to school here yet?"

She groaned and shook her head, slightly disgusted. "Okay...I know this isn't the best way to get a good first impress––well second-first impression of me, but I actually came here last night with a guy. You might know him, Terry Gideon?"

Immediately a guy from my English class with brown curly hair popped into my mind. I wasn't about to tell Kaelie that the guy was an ass, so I merely shrugged. "No, I don't think so."

"Well I met him a few days back at the coffee shop, Java Jones, and we just...started talking and then he asked me to go to this party with him. He turned out to be a total jerk though and ditched me. And, when I finally found him, he was dancing––grinding hardcore with some other girl.

"Then I found you," she exhaled. "And...I'm glad I did."

Well Jace, besides for the fact that you have a massive hangover and killer ache in your back, you managed to wake up under (literally) a girl that's pretty cool. Job well done. Even when I'm drunk I must be charming.

"Me too," I smirked.

* * *

**~Clary~**

"Clary...Clary...ugh––WAKE UP!"

My eyes shot open and I found Isabelle leaning over me with a smug smile. "Thank God," she huffed. "I didn't think you'd ever––"

"Isabelle," I snapped, annoyed beyond belief. "What the hell?!" I had barely gotten an ounce of sleep last night. Isabelle and I ended up falling asleep around three in the morning and I had horrible nightmares about my father that kept forcing me to wake up every few hours.

Isabelle sighed, seemingly unaffected by my tone of voice. "What? I'm hungry."

I grumbled as I turned over, attempting to close my eyes again, but it was already too early in the morning; sun streamed in from my window and invaded my peace. And that's when I realized that Isabelle and I ended up sleeping on my bedroom floor, which is why I had a huge neck ache.

"What time is it?" I growled.

"Jeesh, and people think _I'm_ not a morning person. It's already eleven."

I sighed in defeat and sat up groggily, my back joints popping. Whereas Isabelle was still wearing her hot pink dress from the party, and looking as glamorous as ever––don't ask me how––I was in a baggy shirt and cotton shorts.

"Alright, let's go," I mumbled.

Isabelle jumped to her feet and I barely managed to get to mine, fighting the wave of dizziness that washed over me. Blankets that we had carelessly covered ourselves in last night enveloped the carpet, and I stumbled over them as I made my way to the door.

As soon as we stepped out into the main hallway, I shivered at the brittle change in temperature. My mom stood at the island, already ready for the day in a new set of clothes and her red hair pulled back in a knot. She must've taken out the blender that we keep stored in the pantry, and considering all of the different ingredients surrounding her, she was making a smoothie.

She smiled warmly at us. "Good morning girls. I was just making some breakfast for you guys."

Isabelle practically skipped the length of the living room and sat down at one of the two chairs at the tiny kitchen table. When Isabelle stayed the night and had dinner with my mom and me, which was often, I'd normally grab the chair from my desk for her.

I gave my mom a weary look. Yesterday I had attempted to call her five times before I had arrived at the party, yet she didn't bother to call me back, let alone answer any of them in the first place. Sometime around ten o'clock however, she sent me a text. A_ text_.

And not even a good text! Normally she'd always have her phone on her incase I needed to get ahold of her, and when she missed a call from me she'd make sure to get back to me as soon as possible. But not yesterday, oh no, she was completely ignorant that she even had a daughter and sent me a pathetic little text:_ Hi Clary just checking in. With Luke still should be back soon. Love u._

Ha, whatever.

She purposely avoided me yesterday so she wouldn't have to answer any questions about that mysterious letter.

"Clary," my mom said, momentarily forgetting about slicing the strawberries, "I'm sorry I missed your calls yesterday. I was pretty busy and I must've had it on silent––"

"It's fine," I said flatly.

She gave me a hesitant look. "Did you get my text?"

"Mhmm."

"We'll talk later," she said, keeping her voice low, "I promise."

I ducked under her embrace and sat across from Isabelle, and as soon as I did, she groaned. "I have to finish a stupid project for my English class today."

"What do you have to do?" I asked, tapping my fingers against the arms of my chair.

"Well...I may or may not have waited until the last minute. I have to finish writing a stupid ten-paragraph essay about my partner and study for a vocabulary test tomorrow."

"Isabelle," I rolled my eyes.

"I know," she pouted. "It's just everyone got these insanely cool and interesting partners, and I got stuck with Mike Bourne, the guy who still picks his nose and has dandruff! And Mr. Conrad only gave us two class periods to interview our partner and…" she averted her attention to her lap, "three weeks to type up a report."

"Isabelle!"

"I know! I'm probably going to be up till one in the morning and tomorrow I'll look like Frankenstein's wife. Gah."

"Serves you right," I shook my head.

"_Whatever_. At least you don't have to worry about that essay Jace has to write _for_ you––"

A new wave of uncertainty planted itself in the pit of my stomach. The last time I saw Jace, he was completely drunk; there was no way he'd be able to type up a decent report with the hangover we was bound to have. "That's completely different and you know it," I said, my voice faltering. "Jace has to _re_write that essay for me."

"Yeah, yeah…"

"So, do you need me to drive you home?" I asked.

She shook her head, her glossy black hair spilling over her shoulders. "I'll call Alec after breakfast––"

She was cut off by the blender in the background. I took a peek over my shoulder at my mom, but she was already looking at me. Her eyes, so green and similar to mine, caught my attention and she smiled. I reciprocated a small one in return and turned away.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to talk to her after Isabelle left. If she was so freaked out about that letter yesterday, why would she tell me the truth about it today? I knew she wouldn't, and that only sparked my interest and concern even more.

When she didn't tell me about the letter, I wouldn't tell her about the call from my father.

* * *

"Alright, bye," I said, giving Isabelle a hug.

"Thanks for having me Clary! I'll text you later, oh and Jocelyn," Isabelle called to my mother sitting on the couch, "The smoothies were awesome!" Isabelle retreated out the door and as soon as she was gone, I dreaded having to turn around.

"Did you girls have fun at the party last night?" my mom said, turning off the TV.

"Yeah...it was fun."

She patted the space beside her and I slowly joined her in the living room. "I just wanted to give you a proper explanation," she began. "Yesterday I got a letter––as you already know––and it was a...massive bill––"

I tried to keep myself from scoffing, and only partially succeeded. "So you had to go over to Luke's house?"

She looked lost. "He invited me to go over Clary."

"Why couldn't you tell me that in person?"

"I didn't want to disturb you...I thought you were sleeping."

_Whatever Mom. Whatever._

_"_So," I said, struggling to play along. "What were you doing at Luke's that kept you from answering your phone?"

She stifled a smile. "He actually took me on a date...and I left my phone at his place."

"Where'd you guys go?"

No answer.

"Mom?"

"Oh sorry––just a restaurant downtown, I'm sure you've heard of it...Cafe Renaissance? They had the best hamburgers."

I almost laughed, "Mom, that's a pizza parlor." Now I knew where I got my bad lying skills from.

She took a hand through a few loose hairs around her face and tangled them in her long, thin fingers. I was in disbelief that the woman I've known my entire life, that I loved just as much as she did me, if not more, who was always honest, was lying to me. I could tell she was uncomfortable, and I wanted her to just tell me what was really in that letter, though I had my suspicions, but I wasn't going to push her.

"I think they have hamburgers there too," I gave in.

At that, she smiled brightly. "I promise that from now on I will keep my phone with me at all times."

"Okay," I managed a grin. A new thought occurred to me: What if my father had called us more than once? What if my mother had answered him? What if she was keeping that from me too?

Did she think I couldn't handle it? Maybe she was right, though. I don't know if I could handle it if all of these loose ends tied together like I predict they will. I have nightmares all the time about my father, and just the other day, having spoken to him for the first time, I already feel more on edge. Every time I blink, I see him. Every sound I hear, I think that it's him. He's the only thing I'm truly afraid of and if he suddenly walked back into my life, all of those years of therapy, all of those years of finally feeling safe, they would mean nothing.

But wasn't knowing better than not knowing? It was the fact that she wasn't going to tell me that frightened me even more.

* * *

**~Jace~**

"I'm really sorry my mom can't take you home," Kaelie said. "I mean, I'm sure she would if I asked her, but I don't want to have to explain to her that I spent the night with a guy."

"Even if that guy was me?" I grinned.

She scrunched up her nose. "You're even cuter than you are when you're drunk."

"Comes with the name."

She giggled. "So, I'll meet you tomorrow by the front doors. Then you can show me around."

"Sounds like a plan," I said. She reached her arms around me and planted a chaste kiss on my cheek.

"Call me, Jace." Then she turned around slowly and opened Aline Penhallow's front door. I watched from the window as she descended down the drive way and climbed into a white Hummer. _I am _so_ calling you._

Now, how the hell was I supposed to get home? _Alec._

* * *

**~Isabelle~**

Alec and I drove in silence and I stared out the window, watching the sidewalks to see if I could find any weirdos that stood out. The streets of New York were always busy, and it was full of outright awful drivers, but that made it all the more fun. I loved how loud the city was, loved the lights, loved the stories going on around me. It was all so exciting.

Just as Alec took a right turn, his phone began to _buzz _in his pocket. "Hello?" he said. "Hi Jace...ahh...fine, I'll be there in a couple of minutes. Where'd you say you were?" He paused to listen and I rolled my eyes, typical Jace. "Alright, bye."

Alec looked over at me and raised his eyebrows. "Sorry, that project of yours is gonna have to wait another ten minutes."

When we finally arrived at Aline's house Jace, along with five or so other people, were waiting on the porch. I gawked at the trees in her front lawn that were now teepeed, and the silly string sprayed all over the grass. Yup, there was definitely a party here last night, it just didn't start until after Clary and I left. Just my luck.

Jace walked casually over to the backseat and greeted us with a lazy smile. "How's the hangover?" I smirked.

At this, his eyes slowly widened in surprise. "How'd you know?"

I scoffed. "Oh please. You honestly didn't think I would be there? Jace you were so drunk last night that you..." I trailed off as Alec began to back up.

"That I...?" He asked nervously.

I tried to smother a smile, but it was futile. "Let's just say you ran into someone."

"_Who_?"

"And you called her...beautiful."

A look of pure horror masked his features. "_Who_?!" He repeated more desperately.

"Clary," I giggled, "Fairchild." Alec let out a puff of laughter and looked in his rearview mirror at Jace, his eyes uneasy.

Jace instantly paled. "I did _what_?"

"Would you like me to spell it out for you? You called Clary B-E-A-U-T-I-F-U-L."

"No, no, no," he moaned, smacking his hands to his face. "I did what?"

I rolled my eyes and smiled, quite satisfied. Last night, though Clary had been absolutely mortified on the way home talking about it, I couldn't stop finding the joy in the situation. To think, my brother Jace, whom Clary hated, thought my best friend, whom he hated, was beautiful when he was intoxicated? It _still_ gets me.

"She's never going to let me live this down," he exclaimed.

"Yeah, probably not," I giggled. "And neither will I."

* * *

After Jace had his diva moment, he resorted to staying quiet and looking ill. I could tell he had a headache, but for some reason, the thought pleased me. Oh that boy was getting so much karma. Now I bet he was sorry for ratting me out to Mom the other month for sneaking out.

A long sigh escaped him suddenly and he leaned forward. "Alec, I'm sorry...but we need to stop by Jordan's."

Alec slumped back in his seat. "Why?"

"I need to grab something for...school."

"Ugh, fine," Alec groaned, changing lanes.

* * *

**~Clary~**

"Where are you going now?" my mom asked as I walked out of my room. I was fresh out of the shower in jeans and a tee, my long hair tangling down my back.

"Oh, yesterday I stopped by that pet shop, Pet Palace and I just filled out a job application that I need to drop off," I said, heading towards the kitchen to grab my keys.

"Oh, you're going to work there?"

"Yeah, I guess. They're hiring and I talked to the manager, so..." I stopped by the counter and looked at the bowl that usually held my car keys, my mom's car keys, and the mail keys. I singled mine out, but instantly froze. The mail keys were gone. There was no reason for them to be missing; we didn't get mail until Tuesdays or Fridays, and Dorothea had picked up this week's mail for us already.

Should I call my mom out on it?

_No. Don't be stupid Clary._ They're missing for a reason. My mom was seriously afraid that she'd get another one of those letters and she didn't want me to find out.

I turned around, stuffing my keys in my pocket and gave my mom a tremulous smile. "I need you to sign a form for me––for the job application."

She nodded. "Okay, grab me a pen."

As I waited for her to print her signature, my mind was racing. "Are you sure you want to get a job so soon Clary?" my mom asked. "You don't need to rush into anything, and I don't want you to get stressed out. If it's money that you're worried about, we're fine. It was just one bill."

_Liar. _"Yeah. You know how I love animals and I want to get a job there as soon as possible, while there's not many workers, so I can get a better paycheck."

"When do you think you'll hear from the manager again?"

"Uh...he seemed pretty organized, and he already told me that the job was basically mine, so...soon."

"I think they're also hiring at Starbucks, maybe you should stop by there or something," she suggested.

"I want to work at Pet Palace, Mom," I said. _I want to get out of this house, away from you._

"Okay. Try to be back soon. I love you."

"Love you too."

* * *

**~Jace~**

After we stopped by Jordan's and I grabbed the essay for Clary, Isabelle, Alec, and I arrived home about twenty minutes later. Isabelle huffed all the way to her room, yelling at me for 'being completely oblivious and selfish', and keeping her from writing a report that was due tomorrow.

As time went by, my headache seemed to get worse and worse. The last thing I wanted to do was to retype an essay for _Clary Fairchild_, the girl I supposedly called beautiful last night––_dammit––_but...a deal was a deal. Even though I hated her and we ended up losing anyways, I made it to my football game because of her.

I lazily grabbed an Advil from the kitchen and a glass of water, and took my time going up the stairs. Every step I took was like hammering a nail further into my skull. By the time I reached the top, my head was cracked open, pounding, and I was miserable.

Before I could get to my room though, Max jumped out of nowhere. "RAAWWRRR!" I winced at the sudden noise, the amount of decibels exceeding loud. "Hi Jace! Did I scare you?"

"Yeeaahh," I drawled out, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Guess what!"

"What?"

"Bosha and I went to the store today and bought Chairman Meow a bed! Do you want to come see it?"

"Maybe some other time, okay?"

"What's wrong?" Max asked, tugging on the hem of my shirt softly. "Do you feel sick?"

"Yup."

"I'll have Bosha make you some soup!" And with that, Max was racing down the hall. Soup sounded really good.

* * *

Two bowls of tomato soup later, I had rewritten over half of the essay. It wasn't all that hard considering I was just copying what was already written and scrambling up the sentences so that Clary wouldn't get framed for cheating, but let's just say Advil sucked.

Why did I agree to doing this again?

I wish that I could remember what had happened last night. I was completely in the dark! What in the world could've induced me to call Clary _beautiful_? Kaelie Somers was obviously at that party too, so why didn't I tell _her_ that? Even if it was hard to admit, and I felt even worse knowing that I had told her that she was beautiful, it wasn't necessarily a lie.

Because Clary Fairchild wasn't ugly, it made hating her even harder––not that hating her in general was a challenge. She didn't look like other girls, that's for sure, and boys loved her because of it. She didn't wear much makeup, and looked exotic with her red hair, green eyes, and freckles. She didn't have much of a body, in fact from behind she looked like a ten year-old girl, but she had an undeniably pretty face to make up for it.

Why did she have to be attractive and a bitch to me? That just doesn't make any sense.

Clary Fairchild, you are quite the headache.

* * *

**~Clary~**

I felt swamped when I finally made it to my bed. I was definitely not looking forward to having to go to school tomorrow. Simon and I hadn't talked at all this weekend and I was almost positive that tomorrow wouldn't be any different.

I wish that I could do something that would make everyone happy. But, that was high school for you.

When my mind wasn't focused on Simon, it was centered on my father, or that letter, or oddly enough, Jace. He had called me beautiful. Even if it was the alcohol speaking, why did it not mean nothing to me? Last night, though the mere image of Jace had unnerved me, I didn't want to leave him alone knowing that he was completely out of it.

And why had I felt a pang of...disappointment when I saw him kissing that girl?

Jace was gorgeous, that wasn't hard to see, and everyone loved him. Whether it be because of how charismatic he was, being captain of the football team, or handsome, or maybe the combination of all three, I would never know for sure. But, the thing that set me apart from everyone else was that I saw Jace in a different light. He reminded me of Jonathan.

Jonathan, while he had still been alive, possessed uncanny similarities to that of Jace. From the moment I laid eyes on the boy that had body-checked me to the ground on the first day of my freshman year, I saw my brother. Jace, who had been so nice to me in the beginning, made me hate him even more as I got to know him, for he just became more and more alike Jonathan. Jace was a constant reminder that he was gone.

But, why had he called me beautiful and why did it make my cheeks set fire every time I replayed it over and over inside my head?

* * *

When I reached my locker the next day, I contemplated on whether or not I should text Isabelle.

"Hey Clary," someone suddenly said to my right. I jumped and my mind did a cartwheel when I saw who it was. _Simon. _

_Oh boy. Here we go..._

"Simon...oh––hi!" I said, trying to match his smile. Why the hell was he smiling?

"Look...I wanted to talk to you about the other day," he said slowly, ducking his head slightly as he did so.

"Oh..." _dammit._

"Yeah, do you think we could talk somewhere more private?"

"Uh, sure," I said, letting him take my hand. He lead me behind a vending machine in which was slightly isolated from the rest of the school's chatter.

Simon looked down at me with his brown eyes and I almost smiled, recalling that same look from years ago. Simon meant way too much to me to lose, and even if it had only been a couple days, I missed him insurmountably. I wish that he'd just hug me and assure me that everything was going to be okay between us. But how could things ever be the same?

"I want to apologize Clary," he began, clearing his throat, and ultimately confusing me. "I think I overreacted yesterday. But I know why..."

"You do? Why?"

"Because you're Clary," he smiled. "You're my best friend, the girl I couldn't live without. I think that when you turned me down I was just so shocked and...disbelieving. But...I also know why you turned me down."

"Oh?" I stifled. "Why?"

"Because...I caught you off guard."

"That may be true Simon, but––"

"I think that you really _do _like me, but you just needed to think things through. And that was why I didn't call you this weekend, because I didn't want to rush you."

"Simon––" In truth, the only time I had thought about Simon was to grieve over me losing him as a friend. Not once did it occur to me that I had feelings for my best friend. "No––"

He didn't let me finish, because before I could unscramble the words from my mouth, his lips were on mine. He was _kissing _me, and not a gentle kiss, a forceful one, pleading for me to feel the same way. I felt numb at first and when my body finally responded to my mind's protests, I was shoving my hands against his chest. "Get off!" I shouted at him.

He pulled away, startled. "Clary––"

"_No Simon_." Anger flooded through me. "You just forced yourself on me––you know what that does to me! I don't like you! I don't!"

"What?" He exclaimed. "So you're telling me that you didn't feel _anything_?"

"_No!_ I told you before that I didn't and I would never do that to Isabelle."

"I'm sorry for...forcing it Clary," he said, his voice steady, but with an underlying tone of anger. "You know I didn't mean to upset you like that, but...I'm done."

"What do you mean you're done?" I snapped, trembling with uneasiness. _Why had he done_ that? I could barely even stand to look at him, the past seconds forever inscribed into my brain.

"I'm _done__," _he repeated icily. "I'm done with you! If you can't see that I'm the one that truly cares about you, that's always been there for you, then I'm done! Don't bother trying to talk to me again because I won't respond."

"Wait Simon––you can't be done!" I felt desperate suddenly, my stomach turning into concrete. I _needed _him. "Just because I don't like you you're _done _with me? I need you––please. You don't understand! I'm sorry!"

"Do you not understand how selfish you sound?" He shook his head and stalked past me. The first bell rang, startling me out of my pathetic reverie and I blinked the tears away from my eyes.

* * *

When I walked into consumer and family studies, I slowly made my way over to the table I shared with Isabelle and two other guys named Nick and Jake. "Hi Isabelle," I said, trying to brush off my confrontation with Simon.

She didn't respond.

"Uh, Isabelle?" I tried again. This time, she turned her whole body away from me.

For the entire class, even when we were forced to work together to make brownies, Isabelle avoided me, not even bothering to make eye contact with me. After class, I tried to keep up with her, but she used her long strides to her advantage and left me stranded in the halls. What had I _done_ to her? One morning and my two best friends suddenly hated me?

I slumped in my chair for history, never feeling more alone.

* * *

**~Jace~**

Kaelie pressed her lips to mine and smiled. "See you at lunch?"

"I'll save you a seat," I said, smirking as I turned the other way.

When I entered Mr. Starkweather's class I suddenly turned uneasy. I'd have to give Clary her essay––she'd make fun of me for calling her beautiful––she'd be a jerk like always. _Just be a man..._

I slowly approached Clary and stopped in front of her desk, setting the essay down. _So far so good..._To my surprise she gave me a small, faltering smile, "Thanks Jace."

I inwardly reeled. _Wait...What? _"Uh...sure?"

She looked down, her face drained and nodded. I felt awkward just standing there, but where the hell was her sassy remark, or her cold front? When Mr. Starkweather entered the classroom, I decided to take my seat, glancing back at Clary every ten minutes or so. She kept her face glued to her desk throughout the entire class.

By the time we were dismissed, I was tapping my pencil against my notebook with confusion. Clary slowly packed up her things, barely acknowledging that I was there and made her way past me, not giving me the little huff she usually did, or bumping her leg into mine. I felt unsatisfied and more apprehensive than usual with her, so as soon as we made it into the hallway, I hesitantly grabbed her arm.

"Clary?"

She turned around. "Hi Jace, is something wrong?"

"I don't...think so," I said, giving her a once over. Come on Clary, _kick _me. Call me out for the other night. Do _something_! "Is everything okay?"

She nodded, and shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah." Her voice telling me otherwise. "Look...I really appreciate that you took time out of your weekend to write the essay for me, I shouldn't of asked you to do it––"

"No, I deserved to do it," I said, almost automatically. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yeah, I'll see you around," she smiled. She looked so much smaller to me, so...unhappy. And I knew that something was definitely wrong when she was being nice, let alone decent to _me_.

"Uh, yeah. See you Clary."

Then she walked past me, crossing her arms over her torso and lowering her head.

* * *

**~Clary~**

I was suddenly tired, too drained and upset to show my hatred towards Jace. Until lunch, I went about my day as if I was a fly on the wall. I barely spoke a word, only giving the brief smile and 'hello' to some random passerby.

After I retrieved my lunch I hesitantly made my way over to my lunch table. Isabelle, and our good friend Maia were already sitting there, laughing and seemingly normal. However, as soon as I stopped in front of the chair that I sat in nearly everyday, Isabelle glanced up at me with cold eyes and dropped her backpack on the seat beside her. "Sorry, this spot's taken."

Across from her, Maia's mouth dropped open and she patted the space beside her. "You can sit here Clary."

Tears prickled the backs of my eyes and I stood there for a few moments in shock, my vision frozen on the backpack and Isabelle's hand. "No...no it's okay," I managed. "I'll just go sit over there," though I didn't know where 'over there' was.

I walked away, mortified, my feet dragging as if they were made of stone. I dared myself to look in the direction of Simon's usual table, and he was already looking at me, his expression reading: _Keep walking._

I knew a lot of people at this school, in fact I was pretty popular, but I couldn't bring myself to ask anyone if I could sit with them. I found myself walking outside and settling under a tree all by myself, small tears making there way down the sides of my face.

I was in the same boat, only this time, it was sinking.

* * *

**FINALLY! Can I just say that this chapter took me the entire day! I woke up at ten, had breakfast, wrote, went to the bank with my dad, wrote, had lunch, wrote, and wrote...and wrote, and wrote! Now, I get to take a shower and go bowling! WOOHOO! Haha..**

**What did you guys think of this chapter? What did you think about Isabelle and Simon? I'm sorry, but if you just skipped over this entire chapter and you're reading this author's note, you really need to read everything in order to understand future chapters!**

**Wow, this is my longest one yet! Is it okay? Hopefully it is...if not, well, then crap.**

**Until next time, peace.**

**OH and thanks so much for your amazing support. iLove you guys!**

* * *

**JUST INCASE YOU DIDN'T SEE MY AUTHOR'S NOTE LAST TIME, I WILL BE UPDATING THIS STORY ONCE A WEEK, EITHER ON FRIDAY, SATURDAY, OR SUNDAY! **


	10. Perennial

**For all of you awesome people out there, I just wanted to inform you that there's a little...CLACE scene at the end. It was probably the most exciting part of this chapter to write!**

* * *

_Perennial:_

**~Clary~**

I had never been so happy for the end of the day to come. When the bell rang, I moved quicker than I had while getting ready for school this morning when I woke up late. I jammed my science notebook in my backpack and took off towards the parking lot, not bothering to stop by my locker to put away my textbooks.

As soon as I saw my blue truck, it took everything I had not to break down right where I stood. I couldn't wait to be in the safety of isolation, where I could sob all I wanted.

With shaky hands, I stuffed my keys in the lock and numbly wiggled them around until the door to my car clicked open. Before I could even slide into my seat, my eyes were hot with unshed tears and my throat was swollen. No matter what I did, the unbearable pain of hopelessness wouldn't go away; a constant burden, eating me away from the inside out.

My steady breaths were interrupted by hiccups, and to ease my slowly waking headache, I rested my head against the steering wheel. I would give anything to be at home already, to not have to ever move again.

_Tap_, _tap_, _tap_.

I jolted upright, wiping at my eyes. Who I saw at the window wasn't Simon or Isabelle, to both my relief and frustration, but Jace. I didn't even care if he saw me for what I was––a complete disaster––and didn't bother to cover up my probably tomato-red face.

His eyes quickly adjusted to the sight of me crying and he stood there, frozen in place, for a few seconds before he tapped on my window again, signaling for me to open my door. I wanted to shake my head, to tell him no, but I hadn't locked my door yet and he opened it for me.

"Jace-e," I stifled, "I was just leaving."

His hand rested on the roof of my truck and he stepped past the threshold of my now ajar door. "Clary…" he trailed off, as if remembering who I was. Why had he even bothered in the first place?

The intent his calming demeanor radiated all but made me feel worse. Seeing him here, attempting to comfort me was surprising, confusing, and ultimately frustrating. Why couldn't I just open my mouth and tell him to leave me alone? Maybe it was because I wasn't sure that I wanted that. Who was I to push him away when I didn't have anyone else? Wasn't I alone enough?

_But this was _Jace_, Clary._

"Why are you crying?" He finally asked me.

I shook my head. "It's nothing."

He scoffed. "Okay, that's fine. You don't have to tell me…"

"I wouldn't tell you even if you weren't you," I half-laughed, half-coughed. "It's just...complicated."

He pushed out a puff of air and rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah...I know I'm probably not your favorite person, but I...uh...I just wanted to see if you were okay. After school you made a beeline to the parking lot and nearly ran me over––"

"I don't understand why you care. Is it really that big of a deal to you whether I'm upset or not?" My words words weren't coated with hostility, despite their content, but truly curious.

His eyes narrowed, barely visible. "I don't...know. My car's right over there," he said, gesturing to his right, "and I just thought...well I don't––never mind."

"Okay well thanks," I said, disappointed with his response nonetheless. He wanted to check up on me 'just because', not because he actually cared. But why would he? We weren't friends, we weren't even nice to each other. We _hated _each other. "Well I'm going to go home."

"Okay, yeah...me too." I looked up at him until he finally understood that I couldn't get anywhere, let alone shut my door with him standing there. "Oh––right, sorry."

I wiped my eyes and offered up a tremulous smile. "Yep."

"See you around Clary?"

I nodded stiffly and as soon as it was safe for me to shut my door, I did just that and stuffed my keys into the ignition.

* * *

**~Jace~**

When Clary's truck was no more than a little blue speck in the distance, I hiked up my backpack and made my way over to my car. I guess you could say I was making progress with her; She could've easily slammed the door on me and broken my hip, but she didn't...so, that was something, right? I don't really see why that matters, though.

I had no intention to follow the little redhead that raced over me in order to get to the parking lot. In fact, I tried to steer myself away from her truck all together, but that was hard considering she was parked across from me. I was going to leave her be, that is until I saw her head down, patches of her read face, and her body racking with small sobs.

She was crying, and for some reason I just had to talk to her, to make sure she was all right. It didn't even matter that she was Clary. I'm sure that if I had seen anyone else crying, I would've wanted to go comfort them too...right?

No. Probably not. Despite how awful it may sound, whenever I saw someone crying, I wanted to get as far away from them as possible. Where there was crying, there was a story, and it usually ended up lasting an entire hour––yes, I've learned from my experiences, mainly with ex girlfriends, but, whatever.

The only reason I even decided to see if Clary was okay was because...I have no idea. I have _no _idea.

She'd been in a low state, that wasn't hard to see, but she had still been civilized. You would think that a girl that hated me enough to go to Hell and back just to avoid me wouldn't of been so nice, but...

I would've made it a whole lot easier on myself if I would've just kept walking, if I didn't have this sudden impulse to tap on her window. Why on why, Jace?

But more importantly, why had Clary been crying?

* * *

**~Clary~**

As soon as I slammed my apartment door closed, I raced to my bedroom and torpedoed myself into my bed. I buried myself in the mass of blankets, despite already being warm, letting it all out. I cried, and cried, and cried.

I was actually overjoyed that my mom was still working at the preschool. There was no doubt that I sounded like a dying walrus, and if she saw me, she'd want to know exactly what was wrong. _Calm down__. Calm down._

I stuffed my hands against my eyes, willing me to just stop crying, to stop being so weak, but it was futile. Two of the most important people in my life wanted nothing to do with me, my mom, I deduced, was keeping secrets from me, and those secrets happened to be about my father, whom was possibly trying to find us again. And probably the most confusing and weird: the only person that had been remotely kind to me today had been Jace.

Simon, though I had no idea why, had feelings for me, and because I didn't share those feelings with him, he hated me. That wasn't too hard to understand, I guess, despite how stupid it was. But...Isabelle? I had done absolutely nothing to her! How could I have––we'd only been at school for twenty minutes. Whatever it was, it must've been awful for her to completely ignore me and kick me out of our lunch table.

Did this mean that they'd never want to talk to me again? I don't think I could handle that, I honestly don't. I needed them. What was I without my steady rocks?

I didn't even care that I had a backpack full of homework. I never wanted to have to move again. I felt so engulfed with solace as I laid there, my eyes getting heavier and my breathing getting slower. Without even knowing it, I cried myself to sleep.

* * *

**~Jace~**

I had a couple of hours before I had to go back to school for a football scrimmage and I decided on heading back home to relax for a while. I discovered that I was the only person home, besides Rosco, our butler, but he was outside lounging by the pool in a speedo––eesh.

As soon as I opened the door to my room, I groaned. There was a cat. On. My. Bed. Chairman Meow was comfortably nestled in the middle of four pillows propped up against the headboard. "Cat," I hissed. It blinked with its one eye lazily, uncaring. "Max told me yesterday that you got your own bed, so why the hell are you on mine?"

In response, the cat simply let out a mighty yawn and snuggled deeper into its nest. _Really._

A second later, the home phone began to ring from downstairs. I sighed, casting one last look at the beast occupying my bed and jogged down the stairs. "Hello?"

"Oh good," Maryse chirped. "I was worried that no one would be home. Hi Jace."

_Oh boy._

"Hey Maryse," I said.

"Isabelle or Alec home yet?"

"Oh no, sorry." I looked around the kitchen I was now standing in, unable to help but feel a little disappointed. Of course Maryse didn't want to talk to me, I wasn't her real son. "I think they're on their way home. Bosha, I think, is still picking Max up from school."

"Oh well, that's okay. I was just calling to check in and see how everything is going. I haven't been able to talk to you guys very much."

"Everything's good here," _and Max found a cat. _"How about in Colorado?"

Maryse sighed, and I could picture her rolling her icy blue eyes. "Oh you know, as good as board meetings, conferences, and brunches with eighty year-old men can get."

I laughed. "So...when do you think you're going to be back?"

"Oh," she said, this time with much more enthusiasm, "I'm flying in Wednesday night!"

Ha, ha. That was _two _days from now. What the hell were we supposed to do with Chairman Meow?

"Cool, I'll let everyone know as soon as they get home."

"Have you heard from your fa––Robert yet?"

Robert Lightwood, a very successful international journalist, was currently in Europe, and has been for the past month or so. The last time any of us were able to get ahold of him was last week sometime. It's harder on Isabelle, Alec, and Max, really, but they're so used to him always being gone, and besides, he always gets us the best souvenirs.

"He hasn't called."

"Is school treating you well?"

"Yeah," I said, almost scoffing. She'd been gone for two days, how was school supposed to differ?

I heard her voice grow fainter as she said, "I'll be there in a minute," and I presumed that she was talking to her boss or something. "Jace," she breathed into the speaker again, "I'll try to talk to you later, but I have to go to another meeting."

"Alright, see you."

"I love you."

"You too." Then the line went dead.

* * *

Since I was already downstairs, and the fridge was less than five feet away, I poured myself a glass of orange juice. I used to hate having to drink out of such fancy glasses, especially when I was just trying to enjoy some chocolate milk or something, but the only dishes we owned were made of fine China. There was the occasional plastic cup for Max, though.

A few quiet minutes passed by until the door to the garage shut and Isabelle's heels _clonked _against the wood. She came strolling into the living room. "Hey mutant," I greeted her.

"Hi Barbie," she sneered.

She pushed past me and hurriedly opened the pantry, dishing out the Oreos and peanut butter. "What's up with you?" I asked cautiously, taking another gulp of my orange juice.

She looked up at me savagely, her mouth stuffed with food already. "What?" she snapped, but it was muffled.

"Eh..." I was probably the only person in the world to see Isabelle like this. "Why are you acting like a pregnant lady that hasn't eaten?"

She swallowed heavily. "I'm _not_."

"Oh my God!" I suddenly exclaimed, my eyes widening. "You're preg––!"

"_NO_! You idiot! I am not pregnant," she growled. _  
_

A few chuckles escaped me, though I felt circumspect with Isabelle's eyes piercing into me. "I just talked to Maryse a couple of minutes ago," I said after a while.

Isabelle twisted her lips, working on scooping another Oreo into the peanut butter jar. "And...?"

"She said she's coming back on Wednesday."

Isabelle sighed. "What are we going to do about the sloth Max adopted?"

"My thoughts exactly."

"Well..."

I leaned against the island. "Where's Alec? Did you see him before you left?"

Isabelle shrugged. "He said he's going to a friend's house. Again." That had been coming out of Alec's mouth a lot lately. I was starting to think that this 'friend' wasn't a friend at all, but possibly a lover. If that was the case, I had no idea why Alec was being so secretive about it, it's not like Isabelle and I would give him a hard time––well Isabelle wouldn't.

"I have homework, so..." Isabelle said, scooping up her food into her arms.

"Wait," I called, before she could round the corner. "I uh...I saw Clary before I left...and she seemed pretty upset, do you––?"

"Why in world do you care?" Isabelle cut in sharply, surprising me nonetheless.

"I, uh, don't––"

"Yeah, well you were right."

"What do you mean?"

"Clary's a bitch," Isabelle said.

"Wait, I thought she was your best friend––" I stammered, in near disbelief.

"_Was_," Isabelle seethed, and with that, she spun on her heel and stormed away.

* * *

**~Clary~**

I awoke to gentle fingers stroking my cheek. "W-what?" I said groggily, momentarily forgetting where I was.

Sitting on the edge of my bed was my mom, looking down at me with curiosity and concern. "You tired?" she asked softly.

I buried the back of my head into my pillow and nodded stiffly. "It was a...long day."

"You've been crying. What's wrong baby?"

I felt that as soon as I started talking about it, I'd just begin to bawl all over again. I was on the verge of tears just thinking about it. So, I settled with, "I just feel really sick."

My mom placed her hand against my forehead and frowned. "You do feel a little warm," she said. Props to wearing a jacket to bed in an 80-degree bedroom, and having a warm face from crying. "Do you have a headache?"

I lied when I said, "And a stomachache."

"Are you sure that nothing else is wrong?" She looked at me wearily. "Is it drama?"

"Nope," I bit back a hiccup.

"I'll go make you something to eat and grab you some Tylenol," she nodded. Then she pressed her lips against my temple and stood up slowly, "I love you Clary."

"I love you too," I whispered, so thankful that she wasn't going to press me, even though I knew that she knew that there was a lot more I wasn't telling her.

* * *

Again, I jolted awake, only this time to the sound of my cell. Its echo was muffled in the pocket of my jacket and my hands groped for it, my eyes trying to adjust to the black of my room. When I was finally able to dish my phone out, the screen read 9:13, and a phone number was listed.

Fear crept through me. What if it was my dad, what if he'd somehow gotten ahold of my cellphone number? What would he want––

"Clary Fairchild?" _Thank you, God. _It wasn't my father at all.

"Hi Bill," I laughed, despite the fog in my brain and my swollen eyes.

"Sorry to catch you later in the night, but I was just locking up and I wanted to let you know that I read through your application. The job's yours, hands down."

"Great, thanks." At least this night would deliver some good news.

"Yeah, of course, out of the one job application I've filed through, yours was definitely the best."

I almost forgot that he was trying to make a joke, but I laughed despite myself.

"If it works well with your schedule, I was hoping that you could start next Monday," Bill said, his voice rich and jolly. Even through the phone, he sounded like one of those people that was constantly smiling, that was always happy.

I wanted to tell him that I wanted to start sooner, like as in tomorrow; if I had a job to worry about, I wouldn't have time to fret over anything else. "Yeah...okay, cool."

"Super. How about you come in after school, as soon as you can, probably around three, and I'll show you the ropes, then you can start officially on Tuesday.

"Great, see you then."

"See you then," he assured me. When he clicked off, I groaned into my hands. Tomorrow was another day of school, but I was determined not to go.

* * *

**~Jace~**

The next day went by pretty uneventful. The only thing that made it different was the fact that Clary wasn't sitting behind me in history. After football practice and showering in the locker rooms, I made my way to the library to meet Kaelie. I offered her a ride home, despite the fact that we wouldn't be able to leave until after five.

"Hi Kaelie," I said.

She looked up from the book she was reading and smiled brightly. "Jace, hi. I finished all of my homework thanks to you."

"Sorry about that," I laughed uneasily. "Practice ran a little late."

"No worries."

I held out my hand to her, "Shall we go?"

"Let's." By the end of her second day of school here, Kaelie was already buddying up to Aline Penhallow, and she was getting pretty popular amongst the guys. She was very pretty, even more so than she had been with makeup all over her face and a hangover. She still wore a lot of makeup, but it wasn't like she had the clown-look going on.

We walked in sync down the main stairs and to the parking lot. "So, do you like it here?"

She shrugged into me. "It's still school, but yeah. Having you here and people like Aline and Jordan have made it easier to adjust."

"That's what I'm here for."

She giggled. "So...I told my mom about you, and...that you'd be staying for dinner."

It's not like I didn't want to go, I mean...it didn't sound _awful__. _But hadn't I just met this girl? And now I was going to meet her mother? I still had homework to worry about and I had to study for a math test, which if I had to take right now I would fail miserably––I _couldn't_ stay for dinner. Whenever I hung out with a girl, we ended up spending a minimum of four hours together, and four hours from now would be nine o'clock.

"Ah...look Kaelie, I would love to, but I have––"

"Oh come on Jace, it would just be a couple of hours, I promise."

"Kaelie––"

"There isn't any way for you to get out of this," she giggled. "We're having homemade pizza."

"I guess," I sighed, defeated, opening the passenger side door for her.

* * *

_Six hours later _I was finally walking away from the Somer's household. I was going to be up all night now––didn't this girl know it was a school night? It was already eleven! And the pizza wasn't even homemade, it was from Papa Murphy's, and her mother was quite scary. I felt as if she literally had eyes in the back of her head.

Since Kaelie was an only child as well, and her parents were divorced, the dinner was quite awkward considering it was just the three of us. I was never going to go over to another girl's house for dinner ever again. Ever.

* * *

Isabelle came flouncing down the stairs with a freshly cleaned Chairman Meow in her arms. I almost had the urge to stick my tongue out at him due to the fact that he had a bow around his neck. "Maryse will be here in like less than two minutes," I said, glancing at my phone. Max stayed close to my side.

"Jace, what if she doesn't let me keep him?"

"She will," I said. "Isabelle didn't do her magic for nothing." Even if it was only the evening, I was exhausted. I had literally gotten home from football an hour ago, and the night before I didn't end up going to bed until around two in the morning. As soon as this cat-issue was sorted out, I was going straight to bed.

"Well, shouldn't we like gradually introduce the idea of having a cat?" Alec asked. He sat on the bottom stairs, his arms crossed over his knees.

"Yeah," Isabelle agreed, stepping around him. "We can't just thrust this thing into her face and say, 'Hey Mom, look what we found.'"

"I don't see why not," I muttered, but took the cat from her arms anyways and opened up the coat closet. "I'm not sorry for this, little buddy," I cooed into Chairman Meow's ear, before locking him inside. Wow, I sounded like an animal abuser right there...but you'd understand if you had a cat like this one.

Not even five minutes later, we all heard Maryse pull into the driveway. Alec sneaked past us and before he disappeared through the front door, he told us, "I'll soften her up by bringing her luggage in."

I couldn't help but marvel at how loved Max was. The kid wasn't even in the third grade, yet he had his three teenage siblings, the butler, and Bosha trying to help him keep the cat that we didn't even like.

Mayrse came strutting through the front door with Alec trailing behind her, and we all took turns giving her a hug. "How was your trip?" Isabelle asked.

"It was..." Maryse scrunched up her face, so similar to that of her children's. "It was good. I'm glad to be back though."

Max clung to her legs and she kissed the top of his disheveled head. "How's my Max?"

"I've been good, Mom," he looked up at her.

The four of us all exchanged looks before glancing at the coat closet. As if on cue, there was a loud bang from within. Maryse didn't bother to hide her bewilderment, nor did she hesitate to make her way past us and thrust open the door, "What's in here––"

Chairman Meow raced out of his imprisonment and sprinted up the stairs, taking two at a time. "WHY IS THERE A CAT IN MY HOUSE?!" So much for gradually trying to introduce the cat.

"Surprise," I said, but it wasn't heard over Max's sudden pleas.

"Oh please Mommy! I found him the day you left and I have been taking really, really, really good care of him––"

"Max," Maryse sighed, exasperated, her red stained lips pulled into a thin line. "You know how I feel about animals in this household! Absolutely not."

"But––even ask Jace! I have been so responsible, please don't make me get rid of him," Max cried. "You won't even know he's here, I'll feed him, clean him, brush him, even walk him! Mom, please!"

"No."

"Mommy––!"

"I said no, Max!"

I flicked the back of Max's ear and he glared up at me before registering what I was trying to tell him. Within seconds, Max put on the ultimate puppy-dog face, something that he'd learned from Isabelle, only his was much cuter and undeniable. "Pwease Momma."

Maryse shook her head, trying to avert her attention away from her adorable son, but ultimately failed. "Ugh, Max."

"Pwease," Max repeated, this time clasping his hands together and widening his already impossibly wide eyes.

"I said no––!" Maryse seemed to be fighting an inner battle with herself. After a few tense moments of silence she finally threw her hands up in the air and groaned. "Fine. But Max, I am telling you right now that I will not be taking care of this animal, do you understand?"

Max could hardly contain his excitement and began to bounce up and down. "YES! I understand! I will be really mature––"

"You better be," Maryse admonished, her gaze sharpening. "And if I even smell that litter box, I'll personally take that cat to the pound, understood?"

"YES!" Max nodded vigorously.

Immediately a huge weight was lifted off of my shoulders. If Maryse had ended up not letting Max keep the animal, the entire mood of the house would've been tainted for who knows how long. A happy Max meant a happy family.

* * *

**~Clary~**

When Saturday rolled around, I was in the same position I had been nearly the entire week: curled up on my window cushion, drawing, surrounded by thousands of salt water taffy wrappers.. Every morning my mom would come into my room and I'd tell her I felt the same as I had the day before, and that wasn't a lie, not really. I was still absolutely miserable, and as time went by, the realization that my friends hated me kept sinking in deeper and deeper.

To my relief I hadn't received any more calls from my father, yet he was still always on my mind nonetheless. Yesterday, I even took matters into my own hands and "cleaned" the apartment, while I was really looking for the mail keys, but I didn't find anything other than the jumper I had lost last year. This week was turning out to be the worst one I'd had in years.

Problem seemed to mount over problem.

I was currently working on a very detailed picture of a horse with wings. Don't ask me why. As my pencil moved to shade in the horse's left eye, my phone began to vibrate next to me. That was another thing, not only had this week been awful, but it had been so lonely. My phone hadn't gone off at all besides for the occasional calls from my mother, and the call at the beginning of the week when Bill had reached me. So that was why I was surprised when I saw that the caller-ID read _Sebastian_.

CRAP.

"Clary?"

"Oh, hi," I said, my voice sounding foreign to me.

"I was just calling to remind you of our date tonight––"

"Date?"

He sounded flustered. "Yeah...don't you remember? At the party––"

"Yeah I remember," _now_, "but I also remember saying it wasn't a date."

"Of course," he laughed. "So are we still on?"

I wanted to just keep drowning in my grief, but...wouldn't sitting around, and having nothing to do make it worse? Maybe if I allowed myself to have a night out, I'd be able to have a little fun, even if it was with Sebastian. "Yeah...of course."

"Sweet."

"Yeah––"

"Hey, I was also going to call and see how you were. It was like you disappeared at school this week."

"Oh, I just...wasn't feeling well."

"Oh, I'm sorry. You feeling better now?"

_No. _"Yeah."

"Great, well I'll pick you up at seven."

"Okay, thanks."

"No, thank _you_." I could almost see his smile now.

* * *

When I finished straightening the last of my hair, I couldn't help but get a little emotional at the thought that this was the first time I had gotten ready, since I had moved to New York, without Isabelle's help. She was always beside me, whether it be to get prepared to go on a date, go clubbing or to a party, or just to go to the drug store.

The subject I had really been trying hard to avoid recently kept flashing into my mind, no matter how much I willed it to disappear: What would I do on Monday? Isabelle and Simon obviously would pretend that I didn't exist. I could, I guess sit with Sebastian at lunch..._if _things went well tonight, but I wouldn't want him to get the wrong idea. Maybe I could sit with Ashlee, or even Aline.

How was I going to get myself out of this hole that seemed to be getting deeper by the second?

I looked at myself in the mirror and sighed. I didn't look tired, I mean all I'd done this week besides draw was sleep, but...I looked off. Already, my green eyes seemed a little duller, my hair a little flatter, though I had just straightened the heck out of it, and my skin a little paler. In a month's time, I'd probably have worry-lines and start sprouting gray hairs.

Wearing a navy blue, scoop-neck dress, black Vans, and a matching bracelet, I finished my look off with some dark red lips and a little gloss. Isabelle would've approved––_stop, Clary._

I made my way to the living room, where my mom was sitting on the couch, flipping through a magazine. She looked me over and smiled, "You look beautiful."

"Thanks, Mom," I said.

"So..." she averted her attention to her fingers. "I get that you're feeling better?"

I nodded curtly, "Mhmm."

"Clary, the only reason I'm letting you go out tonight is because...well I'm worried about you––"

"Why? There's nothing to be worried about."

Her eyes met mine and she shrugged. "It's just...this week I haven't seen Isabelle or Simon––"

"I've been sick Mom," I all but snapped. "Why would they come over?"

She seemed a bit taken back. "Well...even when you are sick, they usually come over to keep you company or to deliver your homework."

"I must've slipped their minds."

"Are you sure that there's nothing wrong, other than you not feeling well? You can tell me Clary, I'll listen. You know I will."

I was close to ecstatic when I heard a five knocks resound throughout the apartment, but only because I wouldn't have to give her an honest answer. I cast my mom a circumspect look, "Yeah," I breathed as I made my way to the door.

Sebastian stood there looking and smelling as glorious as ever. "Clary," he smiled. "You look... beautiful."

"Thank you Sebastian," I said.

He held out an arm to me, and with his other he waved at my mom. "Nice to see you again Mrs. Fairchild."

"You too," she smiled, though I knew that Sebastian wasn't exactly her favorite person. I had told her a lot about him from last year, and she wasn't one to forgive and forget. She'd been shocked, to say in the least, when I told her of my plans with him, but she was convinced, I guess, that I'd snap out of my current state

When Sebastian shut the door behind me, he scanned me over again. "You don't look sick at all––I mean you look great."

"Eh...thanks," I laughed.

"I'm probably the luckiest guy in the world because you're all mine tonight."

* * *

About an hour after we entered the club Pandemonium, Sebastian and I were dancing in the crowd. Lights flashing all different colors, roamed around the seemingly dark room, a disco ball was the main attraction, and the dance floor blinked a multitude of neon panels. Insane laughter, cheers, and screams added to the loud music.

The Pandemonium was wild.

But that was why I loved it. Every time I came here, I seemed to get lost in the world and the fantasy that was the partying atmosphere. I was able to completely let go and just have a great time.

Though there mainly teenagers, you would always be able to find the occasional older dudes (creepers). It was an all-ages club after all.

"Hey, I'm going to go get us some drinks," Sebastian shouted.

"Okay!" I said and let him lead me off to the side.

"I won't be long," he smiled, grabbing my right hand and kissing it gently. Then he turned away and disappeared. In all honesty, Sebastian had been a complete gentleman this evening, and quite fun company.

I let my eyes graze over the crowd, almost having to squint past the fog machines, where I could only make out silhouettes and shadows. I swayed slightly to the tempo and began to tap my hands against my legs as time went by.

* * *

Hadn't Sebastian gone to get drinks ten minutes ago? It wouldn't take that long, right?

After waiting what seemed to be another twenty minutes, I began to make my way over to the bar. I always tried to avoid going over there simply because that was where you'd find a lot of the older guys. Of course the bartenders would only let adults buy beer, but if you had the money, they'd give you all the alcohol you wanted.

Sebastian was nowhere to be seen.

After having an inner debate with myself, I decided to search the Pandemonium for him, but only because he'd be giving me a ride home as soon as I found him.

* * *

I was just about to give up and walk home, but made my way to the upper level of the club, in which was vacant in comparison to downstairs, as a last resort. When I reached the top step, I surveyed the room that compared to that of an average playroom with a few couches, a giant TV and a pool table––

In the far corner of the room was Sebastian _and _a girl, and they were kissing as if their lives depended on it. I wasn't jealous, no, I was furious. Sebastian takes me to this club as a way to "win me back" and then goes off with some bimbo, leaving me all alone. _Nice_. Real classy.

I stomped towards them and tapped Sebastian on the back. He spun away from the girl as if dizzy and looked at me with confusion. "Sebastian," I said, "I would like to go home _now_."

The girl narrowed her eyes and shrieked. "You came here with another girl?!" Then she stalked away, her heels clonking furiously against the wooden panels beneath her.

Sebastian slurred towards me, each step he advanced, I took away. "Clary-y?"

"Ugh," I said with disgust. "You're drunk!"

I was backed into a wall, feeling as if he was the predator and I was his prey. "Why don't youuu comme give me a kiss?"

"Sebastian stop," I warned, trying to sneak out of his trap, but his hands secured on my shoulders. I recoiled against the wall as his face inched towards mine. "Get away! STOP!"

Then his lips met mine and he sloppily tried to get me to respond. In a moment of panic I brought my knee up and hit him right where it hurt, as hard as I could. He jumped away with a yelp and while I had the upper hand, I slapped him right across the face.

"You bitch," he snarled. Before I could even make a move to get away, his fist had connected with the side of my face.

* * *

"I don't understand what it is you want from me!" My father screamed. "I come home to _this _and you guys expect me to be happy about it?! NO! You guys _make _me into the bad buy!"

Jonathan, my mom, and my seven year-old self sat at the kitchen table, all too afraid to move as my father loosely held onto the neck of his beer bottle and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, a string of curse words trailing from his mouth. After a while, his black eyes flickered over us and he laughed angrily. "I don't know what to do with you people anymore," he spat. "I have tried and tried and tried again, but you won't _listen_! What do you want me to do now Jocelyn?" He asked, advancing towards us. "Our kids are out of control!"

My mother scrambled to her feet. "You need to calm down––"

"Calm down! Calm down? You want me to calm down?!"

"Please, you're scar––"

Before any of us could react, the terrifying man gripped my arm and yanked from my chair. "Maybe now you will listen," he growled to Jonathan and my mother. His giant hand smacked me mercilessly across the cheek.

It had been the first time he had ever hit me, but certainly not the last.

* * *

I stared at Sebastian and his fuming demeanor in shock. His dark eyes were fogged over, unseeing, his nostrils flaring with every harsh breath he released. I held my hand to my cheek, and already it was warm and burning.

I stumbled away from him, breaking off into a sprint down the steps and shoving into person after person, trying to make my way to the exit.

* * *

**HAHA KIDDING, THERE'S MORE. Just because you're all so awesome, I decided to extend this chapter (HINT, HINT... It's the CLACE scene). Oh and this scene is similar in some parts to that of the original (musicluver008) version!**

* * *

**~Jace~**

As I approached the Pandemonium, I checked my watch and saw that it was already ten. I had agreed to meet Jordan, Maia, and Kaelie here as a way to celebrate our victory against the Cougars last night, though the win was inevitable.

Just as I was about to step through the entrance, a small force propelled into me, knocking me back a few steps. I looked down in surprise to find Clary Fairchild. "Sorry," she mumbled, not even bothering to look up to see who it was, and she pushed past me, her movements unsteady.

I followed her onto the sidewalk, my previous goal completely forgotten, and grabbed her arm gently, causing her to turn around. I hadn't seen Clary at all this week, and here she was at the very club I was, figures. "Clary?" I called.

Her eyes widened at the realization of my voice and she turned her head away quickly, her arm still in my hand. She was trembling.

"Hey...are you all right?" I asked uneasily.

She nodded quickly, trying to pull away. "Yeah, I have to go––I'm meeting someone."

That's when I saw a few tears making their way down the side of her face. With her free hand, she wiped them away hastily and lowered her eyes to the ground. I recalled the conversation I had had with Isabelle at the beginning of the week. When I saw Clary on Monday, I knew that she'd been crying because of a fight they must've had, but why was she so worked up now? She looked like a deer caught in headlights, shivering, pale, lost.

"Clary, look at me," I said.

"Jace I need to go––"

"_Clary_," I repeated, this time more stern.

Slowly, she looked up and turned her head so that I could make out her entire face. There was an angry red mark on her left cheek––What the...how did...oh, hell. No way. Had someone...really...

"Who?" I barked, consumed with rage.

"It's nothing," she swallowed.

"Nothing?" I scoffed. "Who hit you Clary?"

"It doesn't matter!"

"_Yes_ it does!" My tone raised to match hers.

Her jaw clenched and she yanked her arm out of my grasp, in which had tightened without me realizing it. "Why do you care?!" She exploded. "I don't understand why you cared on Monday, and I don't understand why you care now! You _hate _me Jace so just leave me alone!" She turned on her heel and began to run.

Her words had caught my by surprise and I was left staring after her for a few seconds before I could get a hold of myself and go after her. I easily caught up to her, my strides doubling hers, but as soon as she heard me following after her, she began to run faster. "Clary!" I called. "Clary, stop!"

We rounded a corner and I took the opportunity and reach out and grab her, my hands securing around her upper arms, preventing her from getting away. "Jace, let go!"

She went ballistic and started writhing and squirming in my grasp, but I wouldn't loosen my hold. "Jace!" she cried. "Please!"

"Clary, calm down!" I managed to force out, as I struggled to restrain her. "Clary, just stop!"

When it finally dawned on her that she wasn't getting out of this, she went slack, defeated. I carefully turned her around, her breathing heavy, causing her entire body to move with each pant. When she was facing me again, her eyes were glistening with tears and her cheek was red enough to put her hair to shame. "Clary, tell me now."

"No," she said stubbornly.

An angry laugh worked its way out of my mouth before I could stop it. "You are so impossible."

She huffed angrily. "And you are so frustrating!"

How was it we were able to keep up with our usual banter after something like this happened? I leaned forward slightly and looked her straight in the eye, to tell her I wasn't lying. "I'm not letting you go, Clary, until you tell me who hit you."

"What's it to you––?"

"Oh my gosh," I said exasperated. "Do you not understand that I don't care about your stupid little hatred for me right now? Tell me Clary."

She stayed quiet for a few aggravating seconds. "Smmhh."

"What?" I strained. It honestly didn't matter who had hit her, I wanted to beat the bastard to a bloody pulp regardless and make sure he got what he deserved.

"Sebastian," she mumbled, averting her attention elsewhere.

I was livid. "_He _hit you? What the hell were doing out with Sebastian Verlac, Clary?" I was contemplating on whether or not I should go find him this instant and feed him my foot, but I was almost positive that that would do more harm than good, especially if it meant leaving Clary alone.

She pulled out of my grasp again, but didn't say anything, she just looked down as if she were ashamed. Looking at her seemed to melt all of my anger away. I wanted to know why he had hit her, but I wanted to make sure that Clary was going to be okay even more. "Clary, let me drive you home."

When she didn't make any move to protest, I gently placed my hand on the small of her back and guided her back to the Pandemonium, to my car.

* * *

We sat in silence. Thoughts were racing through my head at a hundred miles an hour. Questions, replays of the night, and a lot of "did that just happen?"'s.

"Why?" Clary said after a while, finally breaking through the quiet atmosphere.

My hands tightened visibly around the steering wheel as I searched for the right answer. I really...I didn't know why––I had no clue! It seemed like everything that had to do with Clary didn't make sense. "I don't know," I told her.

She nodded and turned her head out the window. Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes seemed to turn into years. My fingers ached to reach out and turn on the radio, but I felt frozen in place. Then, to my dismay, a large raindrop splashed against my windshield. Judging on the sky, there was going to be a storm. "Remind you of anything?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Clary didn't say anything.

Sure enough, the ran took a turn for the worse. It came to a point where I could barely see the road ahead. Without letting up, the rain began to mix in with hail and I switched lanes when I was able make out a gas station. "What are you doing?" Clary asked, sitting up a little.

"Do you see this weather?" I said

"Of course I see it, but we're in a car."

"Do you want to pay for a new paint job?" I retorted.

"_Really_," she groaned.

I ignored her as I pulled under the protective hood that the gas station provided. The parking lot was vacant, and even though Clary was also in the car, I felt as if I was the only one there.

"So...now that we're going to be trapped under here for who knows how long, why don't you tell me about what happened," I suggested.

Clary sighed. "Don't interrupt me."

I smirked. "Why? Does it piss you off?"

"Yes."

If we had been in any other situation, I would've tried to push her buttons, but because we weren't, I settled into my seat. "So?"

She focused her attention on me "You know what happened."

"Why?" I reiterated.

It took her a moment to answer. "I wouldn't kiss him."

"Are you gonna make me play Dr. Phil? The whole story Fairchild. Why were so freaked out about it."

She glared, "Again, why do you care?""

Did she not understand the severity of this? "Look, believe it or not, what Sebastian did to you was a terrible thing, Clary. I need to make sure that he doesn't put his hands on you ever again––"

"What the hell is with you? He was drunk, he wasn't in his right mind. It's not going to happen again. I appreciate what you've done for me but please just let it go."

I felt my self restraint go out the window. "I'm not going to let this go. You may think it's no big deal, but he _hit_ you, Clary."

"You don't know anything!"

"Yeah, because you won't tell me anything," I shouted back.

"And why should I?" She asked angrily, "You've given me no reason to trust you in the past. Just last week you made me walk to school while it was raining––"

"You have no room to talk, Clary!" I felt my blood boiling, any second now I would be turning into the Hulk.

Clary reacted suddenly, undoing her seatbelt and swinging open the door. I cursed under my breath and by the time I was able to get out of the car, she was close to standing in the rain. "Clary. Clary, please just…" She kept walking "Stop!"

She whirled around "What, Jace? What could you possibly want?"

I threw my hands up in the air. "We're so stupid, you know that? Here we are, arguing and lashing out like usual, when we could be talking about this calmly and rationally." I took a deep breath, in near shock about what I was about to do. After seeing Clary crying, upset, and hurt, my perspective of her had crumbled. I really didn't care if she had been a bitch to me in the past, I found that I couldn't hate her any longer, not when it didn't make any sense.

I knew that something deeper was running under the surface of what had happened tonight. I was tired of fighting, tired of the malice, and I figured that this would be a good opportunity to finally end what had so far been World War III. It was time to bury the hatchet.

"Well?" she said, snapping me out of my thoughts

"Look, um…" Here goes nothing. "I'm sorry." _Goodbye, dignity._

Clary's eyebrows rose and she didn't bother to hide the surprise in her voice when she said, "What?"

"I'm tired of fighting with you," I said. "Honestly, I see no reason to be enemies. I mean, I can't think of a good reason to hate you."

She didn't seem to know what to say, and while I was still on this "doing the right thing" mindset, I added, "So…we should just…call a truce. I'm not saying we're gonna be best friends or even friends, but—"

"Okay," Clary said.

It took me a few seconds to register that she'd actually agreed with me. This was seriously history in the making. "Yeah?"

For a few moments, we just stood there, looking at each other, the awkwardness of the situation growing. What now? "Eh..." I absentmindedly rubbed the back of my neck. "It's kind of cold out, do you want to get back in the car?"

Clary responded by nodding and sending me a wavering smile.

* * *

"Can you tell me why you were so worked up after Sebastian hit you?" I asked Clary cautiously.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, but...no."

My first instinct was to be angry with her again, but hadn't we just made a truce? If this was going to work between us, I was going to have to man up and deal with the fact that Clary wouldn't be any less stubborn. I inwardly took a few deep breaths and slumped against my seat. "So, why weren't you at school this week?"

Clary seemed to stiffen and her face immediately turned sad. "I'm assuming Isabelle didn't say anything, right?"

I wasn't about to tell her that Isabelle had said something, especially when that something included calling her a 'bitch', so I just shook my head. "If she did, why would I be asking you?"

She sighed. "Well, on Monday, Simon––you know Simon right?"

I shrugged, "Only because of you and Isabelle."

"Well...I guess he's...had these feelings for me, that I didn't know about. He tried talking to me in the morning and then he kissed me––"

"Wow Fairchild, all of these guys and wanting to kiss you," I joked.

However, she didn't find it funny. "I got mad at him," she continued, "and then he told me that he was 'done' with me."

"What do you mean?"

"He doesn't want anything to do with me anymore. And when I saw Izzy later that day, she...I don't know, actually. But, she was suddenly completely ignorant of me. I tried to get her to talk to me, but she wouldn't even give me the time of day, and at lunch...she put her backpack in my seat and said that I couldn't sit with her––"

"Wait, wait, _Isabelle _did that?" I asked in disbelief.

"Yeah––I don't even know why I'm telling you this," she said suddenly. "I couldn't even tell my mom what was really wrong."

I couldn't find the right words, so instead, I turned my key in the ignition and turned on the radio. Besides for the static that came from being under a hood, a calming melody filled the car, leaving Clary and me in comfortable silence. After a while, Clary said, "I wish that I could play an instrument."

"I play the guitar," I told her.

At that, she seemed genuinely surprised. "I didn't know that."

"Well," I said, "not a lot of people do. But, yeah. I mainly taught myself how to play, but I learned a few chords and tricks on YouTube."

Clary laughed, making me smile slightly. "I learned how to braid my hair on YouTube, and how to make spaghetti."

"You really needed to watch a video on how to make the easiest dish on the planet?" I scoffed.

"Yes, I'm not a professional chef!"

"Clary, you turn the water on high, cook the noodles and then strain out the water, it's not that hard."

We found ourselves both chuckling, and it was so hard for me to think that this was really Clary, really the girl that I had supposedly hated a few hours ago. Had things really changed that quickly between us?

"So," I dared myself to say. "Why didn't you like me when you first saw me?"

Clary twisted her lips together. "It's hard to explain...But I can tell you why I didn't like you this year."

I rolled my eyes. "Why?"

"Because I could never see the board over your big head in history," she told me.

I placed a hand to my chest in mock hurt. "Did you just call my head large, Clary? I can tell you right now that my head is not large at all, it is, in fact, average size. It is just much more attractive than that of an average human beings."

She scoffed.

That was when I realized that it wasn't hailing anymore, nor was it even raining. How long had that been the case?

* * *

When I pulled up in front of Clary's apartment complex, she gave me a smile. "Um...thanks Jace."

"What?" I smirked, "Are you thanking me?"

"Don't push it," she laughed.

"I'll see you at school Clary, that is if you decide not to play hooky again."

She rolled her eyes playfully. "You too."

I watched until I saw her form retreat inside, finding myself actually looking forward to seeing her again. When she didn't have her devil horns on, she was , dare I say it, enjoyable to be around. However, as soon as she shut the door to my car, I was suffocated with questions, the most prominent being: Who the hell was this girl?

* * *

**If you haven't realized, this chapter is super long (over 9,000 words), so I won't be able to edit it for a couple of days, sorry.**

**Sorry for being a day late too, but I was just having a sick-weekend and couldn't find it in me to finish the last of it on Sunday. And I figured that it'd be a better chapter if I didn't rush myself...Hopefully it was worth a little delay.**

**What'd you think about the CLACE interaction? How about Jocelyn, and or Clary's father? What do you guys think is gonna happen next? DUN DUN DUN...NEXT CHAPTER: _YOU'RE NOT SO_ BAD...what do you think that means? **

**Until next time, peace.**

**iLove you awesome people!**

* * *

**I update once a week either on Friday, Saturday, or Sunday!(:**


	11. You're Not So Bad

_You're Not So Bad:_

**~Clary~**

The apartment was dark, the only light coming from the window in the living room. I leaned against the door, suddenly exhausted. _What the hell just happened?_

I hardly even remembered Sebastian hitting me, there was only Jace. He'd been so...kind, and easy to talk to––after of course we got over the initial bumps in the road. The look on his face when he saw what Sebastian had done to me had been surprising nonetheless; wouldn't someone that hated me not of been so genuinely concerned?

And, for the first time ever, when I saw Jace tonight, I saw _Jace_. All thoughts of Jonathan had been completely erased, forgotten. I didn't see Jonathan's smile, I saw Jace's. Now that I'm thinking about it, I can't help but compare them still; they were still so similar, but now, they were two different people.

I wasn't sure whether I should be happy or scared about that. At least I wouldn't dread having to go to history anymore...

I poured myself a glass of water, not bothering to turn on any lights and slowly reached my bedroom, feeling relief when I allowed myself to fall back against my bed and snuggle into the pillows. As expected, my phone didn't have any messages from Simon or Isabelle, but it was heartbreaking.

Was this really going to be the deciding factor? After years of laughs, memories, and unforgettable good times, they were just going to completely shut me out from their lives?

What happened to always being there for me?

Were they even my friends to begin with––_of course they were, Clary. Stop being stupid._ My relationships with Simon and Isabelle had been real, but now, they were both over.

* * *

I tried to postpone having to go to my first class on Monday. But, when the first bell rang and I was left with no other choice, I took a deep breath and entered the consumer and family study's room. I made a beeline to my table in the back, not even giving Isabelle, whom was now sitting across the room at a different table, a second glance.

I tried to ignore the fact that Isabelle probably went out of her way and asked our teacher to change seats, but the backs of my eyes stung. The entire class, I tried to keep my eyes glued on Mr. Avery or my notes, but every few minutes, I'd let my concentration slip and my attention would fall on Isabelle. Every time this happened, though, she was already looking at me, her dark eyes as cold as ever.

When we were finally dismissed, I collected my stuff as slowly as possible, until I was nearly the only one left in the room. High school wasn't that bad when I had my friends, but now that I had to do everything in my power just to ignore them, it was going to suck.

* * *

Since I didn't have Isabelle to talk to during passing period, it was vice versa when I slid into my seat for history. Not a single soul, other than mine, was there. I propped my head up with my hand and gazed numbly out the window, just wishing for this day to be over.

* * *

**~Jace~**

The first thing I saw when I stepped into Mr. Starkweather's room was Clary's vibrant red hair. As I approached her, I debated on whether or not I should tell her 'hi'. We were friends now, it wasn't illegal to greet each other, right?

She looked lost in her own world, her eyes unseeing out the window, her posture carelessly hunched over her desk, supported only by her right hand.

"Hey, you didn't ditch," I said as I walked past her, sliding into my seat.

Clary jumped slightly at the sound of my voice, and I turned my body so that I could see her better. Even with the extra coverage she'd undoubtedly applied to her face, there was still an evident, light blue mark on her cheek, and seeing it made my stomach churn.

She looked at me for a few seconds, fazed. There was no doubt that she felt just as foreign to the idea of us being friends as I did.

"Yeah, I decided that one week was enough," she finally said and I allowed myself to laugh a little.

"How was the rest of your weekend?" I asked.

"Pretty uneventful after Saturday," Clary responded.

"What did you tell your mom?"

Clary scoffed. "I didn't tell her anything."

At this, I raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"I kept my hair in my face the entire day," Clary elaborated, demonstrating to me how she was able to hide her bruise. She feinted forward and a few pieces of her hair acted as the perfect camouflage. "She didn't see, so I didn't say a word."

"Clever," I offered, though I felt uneasy that she was going to try and hide this from her mom. If I couldn't beat the guy up, surely her mom could...

"Thank you," Clary rolled her eyes.

* * *

Half-way through the lesson, Mr. Starkweather cleared his throat. "As you know the end of the first quarter is coming up, but don't think that you'll be going off on fall break without a final assignment."

_Dammit. _A chorus of groans echoed throughout the classroom and Mr. Starkweather smiled.

"Each of you will be working with a partner––this doesn't mean that one of you will do more work than the other. Over the course of this week and the week that follows, the two of you will be creating a timeline of at least 20 events that took place during the Revolutionary War. I know that you're all not complete idiots, but include key dates like when the Declaration of Independence was signed, When the Intolerable Acts was established, The Battle of Bunker Hill, and so on and so on. You'll be writing a terse description for each event you choose and print out or draw an image to go with it." Then he added, as if a little doubtful, "Try to make it somewhat presentable.

"I advise you to chose someone you know you'll work well with, not your best friend. If there's an odd number of people in here, there can be a group of three or you can choose to work by yourself."

I let my eyes scan the room, deducing that I hardly knew anyone in this class besides Clary. It wouldn't be the end of the world if I asked her, right? Clary was smart and I really couldn't afford to get a 'B' in a class as stupid as history.

Still having a debate going in in my head, I turned around in my seat once again to face her. "Do you have a partner?" I asked.

Clary shook her head, to my relief. "No."

"Do you... want to be my partner?"

"No," Clary said.

I looked at her incredulous before she burst into a fit of giggles. "I was kidding Jace. Sure, let's be partners."

"Okay," I said, smirking a little. "But I'm not doing all of the work, Clarissa. This is a team effort."

"That's ironic coming out of your mouth." She snorted.

"Ha, ha."

Mr. Starkweather quieted the class down simply by holding up a hand, in which contained a stack of green papers. Mr. Starkweather was one of those few teachers at this school that didn't tolerate any funny business, and I had to learn that the hard way last year when he was my homeroom teacher. He subjugated every class, no matter how wild, that came his way. "This is the rubric for the assignment," he said, his eyebrows pulling together. "Since this is a group project, and not a very complicated one at that, you and your partner will have to organize a few dates to get together because I'll only be giving you today and tomorrow to work on it."

I exchanged looks with Clary. _Oh boy. _

* * *

**~Clary~**

At lunch, I didn't even bother going to the cafeteria. Instead, I walked straight to my car and drove home. Being a junior did had some advantages, even if they were as lame as being able to go off-campus for lunch.

As soon as I stepped through the front door of my apartment, though, the phone seemed to sense that I was there and began to ring.

I froze dead in my tracks, my heart ceasing in my chest. If it was who I thought it was then I had no idea what I'd do. Maybe I could throw the phone out the window, yeah, that sounded like a good idea. And if my mom asked about it, I could tell her it slipped…

Very slowly, I dropped my keys in the bowl on the counter and picked up the phone from its cradle, searching the screen for a number. When I saw that there was a number listed, a huge weight propelled itself off of my shoulders. _But_ my relief was very short lived. As I continued to stare at the numbers listed, I noticed that they were very familiar. The reason: It was my old phone number in Texas––the one that our motorhome was enlisted under!

To answer, or to not answer.

There was really no question; I declined the call.

* * *

When the final bell rang, I was so relieved. Though I hadn't answered the phone, I kept thinking about all of the possible parallels. What if I'd failed recognize the number in time?

I was so agitated it wasn't even funny.

I hurriedly opened my locker and grabbed my English and math textbooks for homework. I was so glad that I didn't fall behind last week while I was at home, otherwise I would've been burdened with work that would've had me up until two in the morning. Whoever created online calendars and interactive worksheets, I salut you.

When I shut my locker I made a move to leave, but someone was standing there, waiting for me. My blood turned cold and I clutched my textbooks to my chest a little tighter. "Sebastian," I breathed.

* * *

**This chapter was pretty short, but I thought that this was good place to leave off...Hopefully it was okay!**

**Next chapter, I can assure you, will be over 3,000 words. **

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	12. Thanks Jace

_Thanks...Jace:_

**~Jace~**

"Wayland?" Jordan shouted after me as I raced past him. "Practice is thatta way."

I turned on my toes so that I could jog backwards and gave him a wave. "And my locker is thatta way," I said, jerking my head behind me.

I stopped before I made it to the double doors separating the gymnasium hallway from the rest of the school. As a few more of my teammates piled out of locker room, they all bumped Jordan's shoulder pads and he gave them brief acknowledgments, but his dark, quizzical gaze stayed on me. "Why the hell aren't you dressed out?"

I gave him a toothy grin. "Dentist appointment."

"You're skipping practice?" he exclaimed in disbelief. "It's gonna be kinda hard to practice, you know, without the quarterback."

"Yeah," I shrugged, "but this smile's my money maker."

* * *

Hall after hall, each wall, decorated with thousands of identical black lockers, looked exactly the same. The floors were freshly polished, an array of black, red, and gold tiles, and the minimal sections of the wall that weren't occupied by lockers either displayed bolten boards, posters, and or water fountains. It wasn't that I woke up everyday eager to go to school, but going to a place as nice as Alicante High was pretty cool.

When I rounded a corner near the cafeteria, I still smiled at the overly large poster hanging on the wall there; it had me launching a perfect spiral in the air, lights and a vast field behind me, and underneath was a caption that read 'Determination Is Key'.

School hadn't been let out but a couple minutes ago, so there was still a large population of other students walking about. Most of them knew me, but most of them were also too afraid to talk to me. I'd wave to some random person every now and then just to see their shocked reaction.

As I ventured further down the hall, however, it seemed oddly vacant...besides for the two people standing at the very end of it. They were both impossible to mistake.

Clary had her back to me, her red hair a curtain around her tiny frame, and she was looking up at a person whose name made my blood boil. _Sebastian_. My pace had sped up without me knowing it and I took off in a jog.

When I came close enough, I could hear the end of what sounded to be Sebastian's pathetic apology. "...I'm so sorry Clary, do you think we could talk––?"

But then I was there, before Clary could even open her mouth. They both seemed surprised to see me as I stepped right in between them, making an impassable wall. Sebastian's expression darkened.

"Back off Sebastian," I told him, shoving at his chest.

After he regained his balance, he took a step forward. His eyes held such intensity that if I had been anyone else, I would've melted on the spot. But because I _was_ Jace, and I knew what he'd done, and I was furious about it, the thought of me backing down was ridiculous.

"Why don't you get out of here Jace?" Sebastian growled, his jaw clenched.

"Why don't_ you_. After what you did to her," I said, "you have no right to be anywhere near her."

"You know, Clary and I were just about to have a talk. _Alone_."

"Too bad."

"Don't you have a practice to get to?" he seethed, now practically humming with anger.

"Not today," I said, easily matching in tone.

"Clary, let's go talk somewhere more private," Sebastian said, his eyes never leaving mine as he grabbed ahold of Clary's upper arm. He harshly tugged her forward and she stumbled into my side as she was brought in the middle of us.

"Get your hand off of her," I warned.

"Piss off!" Sebastian shouted. "Tell him Clary that you and I––"

Clary surprised us both when she yanked her arm out of his grasp and took a few unsteady steps backwards, to stand beside me. I had the urge to pull her behind me again; it felt so unsafe for her to be this exposed to him, but she held her ground and stuck her chin out defiantly. "Actually, I need to talk to Jace about a project," she said.

I smirked at Sebastian and, not too easily, had to fight the need to shout "Ha!"

Sebastian, his face the epitome of priceless, feinted forward, before rocking back on his heel and storming away. When the double doors at the end of the hall slammed, I saw Clary wince.

She turned towards me slowly, seemingly speechless.

"Are you alright?" I asked her carefully.

She nodded and averted her attention to the left, then the right. As if by habit, she quickly tucked her hair behind her ears. "I don't…" she trailed off, looking up at me. "Why did you––um...thanks. Again."

"Sure," I said.

The familiarity of awkwardness set in as we both stood there mute.

"So..." Clary and I trailed off together, laughing uneasily about it afterwards. This feeling of not be able to say anything was weird.

_Just say something. _

"Um...we're doing good on our project so far," I finally mustered.

"Yeah," Clary smiled briefly. "We only have to write fifteen more descriptions and draw twenty more pictures."

"Hopefully we'll get a lot more done tomorrow."

She twisted her lips together. "You and I both know that we're gonna have to work together...outside of school."

I laughed, "It's going to make headlines."

She scoffed before her gaze softened and she smiled. "Thanks again...I wish that I could've just walked away, but I...I just froze."

"Yeah...of course."

"Well, I have a job to get to, so...I'll see you tomorrow?" She asked, beginning to make her way past me.

I nodded, stuffing my hands in my jean pockets. "Where do you work?"

"You'd laugh if I told you," she said.

I scoffed, but didn't think to press her about it. "Be ready to work on the project tomorrow Fairchild," I called as she sent me a brief wave and walked away.

* * *

**~Clary~**

As I parallel parked near Pet Palace, my mind was still flustered; a continuous game of pinball, bouncing back and forth Sebastian, my father, Jace, Isabelle, Simon, and my mother. For only being a junior, my life was getting more and more complicated by the second.

Jace had been there to rescue me again.

Jace was my _friend_.

Sebastian had hit me.

He scared me senseless.

My father kept trying to contact us––how long had this been going on before I found out about it?

My mother was growing more distant from me every day.

She was hiding something from me. Something big.

Isabelle and Simon, two of the only people in the world that would make everything better, couldn't care less about me.

Before getting out of my truck, I stuffed a piece of taffy in my mouth and rested my head against the cool window. I had half a mind to drive home and crawl into bed and never go outside again.

_It gets better..._Yeah. Right.

* * *

"Clary!" Bill greeted me, the smile on his face spreading from ear to ear. He waddled over to me from behind the cash register and pulled me into a big bear hug, one that I was too shocked about to resist.

"H-ii Bill," I stifled, his strength cutting off my airways.

When he finally released me, my nose was filled to the brim with peppermint.

"Sorry I'm a little late," I said. "I had to...make some test corrections after school."

Bill shook his head and barked out a laugh. "No matter. I'm just glad to have you here!"

I laughed, not knowing what else to do. "Did you receive any more applications?"

He thought for a brief moment, his brows furrowed together. "I got two more just the other day, but I haven't had any spare time to read through them yet."

"Very cool."

"Yep," he breathed. "Now, let me give you a tour."

* * *

By the time I was leaving Pet Palace, it was already seven. I had been shown all of the insurmountable different species of animals, given a brief overview of how to clean a filter, shown the supply closet, how to work the coffee bar in the employee's office upstairs, and everything in between. Wednesdays I'd be helping Bill clean a variety of cages, tanks, and pins––couldn't wait, and the first thing I'd be having to do every time I checked in was refill all of the animals food and water bowls.

But overall, my job seemed pretty laid back. When I didn't have to work as the cashier, or help a customer, I had free rein to hold, pet, and play with any animal I wanted.

When I slid back into the warmth of my truck, I took a moment to stare out the window. It was dark, maybe a little too dark for the evening, and there seemed to be very little people walking on the sidewalks. I shoved my keys into the ignition, my car rumbling to life.

* * *

By six o'clock the next morning I had already showered, done my hair, ate breakfast, brushed my teeth, and changed into a new outfit. My mom was still asleep, but any minute now she'd be getting up and I couldn't be here when she did; she'd be suspicious as to why I was ready so early.

I quietly grabbed my backpack and snuck out the door, my destination right across the hall, behind door 3. I couldn't believe that I was about to do this, but I was left with no choice. If my mom wasn't going to tell me what was in that mysterious letter, I was going to have to find out for myself. I had only knocked once when the door opened.

"Hello child," Madame Dorothea said, wearing a tribal printed dress, grinning a half-toothless grin, opening the door a little further. Intoxicating fumes ranging from rotten eggs, cinnamon, and mint unpleasantly invaded my nostrils.

"Hi... Madame Dorothea," I smiled, holding back a cough.

"What can I do for you, Clary? Would you like some pancakes?"

"I'm alright," I said hurriedly. "I actually came by to see if you could tell me...how you were able to get the mail for us last week."

"Simple," she barked with laughter. "I have a key."

"How in the world did you––?" I began before I was able to remember the real reason I came here. "Do-do you think I could borrow it?"

Dorothea, stiff and peculiar, shrugged. She raised a brow and her lips thinned. "Why?"

I laughed uneasily, feeling myself growing smaller as her gaze seeped into me. "I...uh...I––I accidentally lost ours and I need to grab the mail before my mom asks about it." _Eesh...nice one Clary._

"Hm," Dorothea said, looking as if she didn't believe my story in the least. "I suppose, _but _only if you do something for me."

_Oh boy. Don't do it. Don't do it. Don't–– _"Okayy?"

She smiled deviously. "Wait right here."

Seconds soon turned into minutes and my anxiety grew as I heard what sounded like pots bashing together and cabinets slamming shut. Finally, she reappeared, this time holding out a mug to me filled to the brim with a suspicious orange liquid. "I'd like you to try this for me," she smiled eagerly. "Tell me what you really think. I got this recipe from a...friend."

Just looking at it made me queasy. "Uh..." I tried to laugh, hesitantly taking the mug from her hands. "Do you mind me asking what this is?"

"Hot cocoa."

I slowly raised the cup to my mouth, its grotesque aroma growing erratically as it got closer. Her dark eyes stayed glued on me as I regrettably took a sip––

Oh...YUCK!

It took all of the willpower I had not to gag or spit it out. "Mhmm," I said with my mouth screwed shut.

"Do you like it?"

"Mhmm."

Dorothea chirped with laughter and clapped her hands together. "I'm so glad! I'll go get the key and you keep drinking that!"

She disappeared once more and when the coast was clear, I poured out the "hot cocoa" into the plant beside her door. I know it was cruel, but...

* * *

I hurriedly made my way out of the apartment complex and dashed across the street, my backpack flopping against my back with every stride. I stuffed the keys into our mailbox and yanked it open...

It was _empty_.

Disappointment sunk itself deep into the pit of my stomach as I could only stare at the empty box. Had my mother already gotten the mail? No, she wasn't even awake yet!

Now I'd never know the truth.

* * *

Jace and I worked as fast and as vigorously as possible, but when the end of the period came, we had only finished about a third of the work. As we gathered up our supplies, we gave each other passive looks, both trying to avoid the inevitable. "So..." Jace sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess we have to get together eventually..."

"Yeah," I nodded. "I'm free everyday after work. So...after six-ish works for me."

Jace shrugged. "Me too...So, do you just want to get it out of the way and come over tonight?"

When I agreed, I had completely forgot that Jace was Isabelle's brother. We walked out of the classroom together and smiled our goodbyes. But, before I could make my way to my locker, I heard Jace call out my name.

When I spun around, he was there, holding out a piece of paper. "It's my number," he explained.

I looked at him quizzically.

He laughed. "We're friends now, right? _Friends _text each other, and it might be useful to have incase you get held up at work or something and can't make it."

"Oh...yeah. Thanks."

When I turned around, I tried to remain oblivious of the curious eyes staring me down, but it was impossible. Students, of all grades, that witnessed _Jace Wayland _giving _Clary Fairchild _his number were almost as in as much disbelief as I was.

* * *

When I pulled around the fountain, I rested my forehead against my steering wheel. The realization that I'd be running into Isabelle was a sickening and festering possibility. Why had I agreed to come over again?

I almost considered texting Jace and telling him that I wouldn't be able to meet him tonight, but I was going to have to get this out of the way eventually. And, maybe if I did see Isabelle I'd be able to talk to her and she'd tell me why she was so angry with me. Fat chance, but...

I hesitantly rang the doorbell, feeling too uncomfortable to use the handles and knock like I usually did. When the door swung open, I had to hold back a sigh in relief when I saw that it was only Max. "Clary!" He squealed. "I missed you so, so much! Come in, I want you to meet Chairman Meow––"

"Wait Max, who's at the door?" A startlingly angry voice called. I froze.

Max's smile remained. "It's Clary!"

Silence.

He took my hand and tugged me through the door. "Isabelle's in the kitchen with a girl named Maia, but first let me show you Chair––"

"_What are _you_ doing here_?" Isabelle snapped, suddenly in front of us. She looked menacing with her hands placed firmly on her hips and an unmatchable glare. I gulped and made a move to step forward, but Isabelle only took a step back as if I was some kind of disease.

"Isabelle––"

"_No _Clary, what the hell are you doing in my house? You're not welcome here anymore."

My eyes stung and I bit the inside of my cheek. "Isabelle what are you talking about?" Max squeaked in surprise.

"I don't know what I did to deserve this Isabelle," I managed, my voice thick with tears. "What did I do?"

She scoffed. "Stop trying to act so innocent! I trusted you and you stabbed me right in the back and made me look stupid! You _do _know what you did and it's absolutely pathetic that you're trying to act as if you don't."

"But––"

"Get. Out," she demanded, advancing on me harshly. I stood there in shock, as still as stone. "Get out! Didn't you hear me!"

"Isabelle, please––"

"No. You're _not _my best friend Clary. Not anymore. Get out––"

"Isabelle," a new, familiar voice said. I turned my head slightly, tears dangerously close to spilling over, and saw Jace standing at the foot of the stairs. Freshly showered and in different clothes from earlier, his face was contorted with anger, surprise, and disbelief. "What the hell are you talking about?"

I didn't stick around to hear her response because I turned on my heel and dashed out the door.

* * *

**Yup...I went there. The end of this chapter is a little depressing, but don't worry, someone will be there to help Clary out (HINT HINT). What do you guys think?**

**AND if you haven't noticed yet, I changed the summary for this story. Be honest, do you guys like this one or the old one better? I just wanted to add a few important details and hopefully draw more interest. **

**What do you guys think is gonna happen next chapter? **

**Thank you so much for all of your continued support and reviews! They truly make my day and writing this story worth it(:**

**iLove you guys!**

* * *

**I update once a week either on Friday, Saturday, or Sunday!**


	13. So Close

**Hey awesome people! Here's chapter 13 (It's about 3,000 words, but...). At the end, there's going to be a prologue for a new fanfiction I'm working on called 'City of Heavenly Fire'. If it's not too much to ask, check it out and give me some feedback(:**

* * *

_So Close:_

**~Clary~**

_You're _not_ my best friend..._

I wanted to scream. My face was flushed with embarrassment, my eyes were already hot, tears flowing freely now like a waterfall. I tried to contain my sobs until I was at least in my car, but that was proving to be more and more difficult.

She really hated me, my best friend _hated _me. She'd practically chased me out of her house, looked at me like I was scum, treated me like how she'd treat one of her worse enemies, and was disgusted by just me being there.

I'd understand if I really had done something, but my head just seemed to scream when I tried to figure out what I possibly could've done. For someone that was so furious, so set on despising me, you'd think that she'd have a really good reason for it, and maybe she did, but...I had done _nothing_. I would never hurt Isabelle, at least not intentionally, and here she was, suddenly avoiding me like I was the Black Plague.

I opened my car door, in doing so slamming it against my side, and hobbled into my seat, clutching my hip. I welcomed the pain that seemed to be blooming, seeing as I deserved it.

Before I could even take my keys out of my jacket, my door was swinging open, accompanied by the bitter air, and when I looked up, I found the reason to be Jace. I could see the sincerity in his eyes as he stared at me, could see him struggling, fighting for the right thing to say. "Can we...w-work on the project later?" I said, when the silence became too much. I really wanted to be alone, seeing me cry was definitely not attractive, and Jace had seen me like this multiple times now.

He smiled slightly, "Let's go get something to eat, my treat."

I looked at him quizzically, wiping at my cheeks, "W-what?"

"Come on Fairchild, it'll be fun and it'll get your mind off of...whatever went down back there," he pressed, his demeanor so calming and unfamiliar. Though my mind was muddled, I couldn't help but feel even more awful for being so mean to him before, because he really was a good guy. I didn't deserve him. Not one bit. "Slide over."

I hesitantly nodded and pushed myself into the middle seat, watching Jace's every move as he climbed in after me and sat behind the wheel. Then his gaze fixed on me, a solution of gold eyes and strong features. I returned his stare, but it soon became awkward after about ten seconds. "What?" I breathed, a little apprehensive.

"Is my beauty too distracting?" he smirked. "I need the keys," and that was when I realized that he was holding out his hand. _You idiot Clary. _

"Oh, right," I said quickly, dishing them fully out of my pocket and into his possession. "Do you...do you even know how to drive a stick-shift?"

Jace scoffed and stuffed the keys into the ignition, bringing the big blue beast to life. He expertly shifted gears and pulled around the fountain, driving me, willingly, to some unknown destination. Oh how the tables had turned; wasn't he the one that Isabelle and I were supposed to hate? Now...Jace _was _being my friend, the only friend I truly had at the moment, a friend that I needed more than I initially thought.

* * *

Except for the radio, we drove in comfortable silence, my curiosity growing the further we got. The sky was fairly dark by the time we reached an unfamiliar, quiet part of the city. Street upon street, there was a collection of seemingly identical little shops, all with colorful, vintage roofs. The streets were so close together that the lights you'd normally only see at christmas were streamed from the buildings on the right to the buildings on the left, a road lit by tiny, twinkling stars.

The atmosphere was quiet, the sidewalks occupied by a minimum number or people. I was so fascinated by the town that I didn't realize that we'd stopped moving. Jace placed his hand on my arm, my concentration simmering, "We're here," he said.

I followed him out of my truck, out into the open. "Where are we going?" I asked.

He shrugged and looked up, revealing a place called _**TAKI'S**_. "Only the best restaurant in New York."

For something with such high standards, it sure didn't look like much––no offense. Like everything else around here, it was small, but, it's windows, unlike the other intriguing shops, were blacked out. Now, it might just be me, but when the windows are _blacked out _it's for a good reason.

"Oh come on Clary," Jace chuckled upon seeing my reaction, "don't judge a book by its cover. You'll be surprised." I wasn't sure what I'd be walking into, but my bet was on a gang fight.

I hesitantly followed him inside, immediately engulfed in warmth. The inside _was _quite the opposite; gold and red walls, covered with intricate patterns and swirls, hanging lanterns, giving off a dim glow, and seemingly thousands of delighted people, all seated in either booths or a small table. The windows on the inside, rather than resembling the outside, had red curtains, adding to its mysterious atmosphere. I was at a loss for words. "How...why...Why are the windows like _that _when the inside is like _this__?" _I sputtered.

Jace laughed. "It's more exclusive this way. If _everyone _knew how cool this place really was, it'd be even more packed, and you'd have to call for reservations, or wait in a huge line. It's simple...but effective."

Then, a kind looking man, maybe in his late fifties, approached us from behind the bar (near the back of the restaurant), grinning. "Hello, welcome. Dinner for two?"

Jace nodded, "We'd like a booth if that's available."

"Very well," the man said, gesturing for us to follow him.

* * *

I leaned into my plush, red seat, and eyed my menu, the selection proving to be ridiculous. There was just so much, it was like looking at a novel. I heard Jace laugh, and then he took my menu from me, setting it aside. "I've been here a million times, if not more. Get the pad Thai, curry, or my favorite, the moo shu pork."

"Alright...thanks," I breathed and took a sip of my water. "So...how'd you find this place?"

Jace shrugged. "I've been going here with the Lightwoods since I was ten. Maryse and Robert know the manager, and, since they're always out of town now, I've just been going here by myself, or with Alec, and sometimes I take Max."

My interest about Jace's past peaked; how he talked about the Lightwoods, how he referred to his parents as Maryse and Robert, not his mom and dad. I knew I had no right to ask him, but, since we were both here, together, as _friends_...I couldn't help myself. "Jace...?"

He leaned forward. "Yes?"

"I know this probably isn't your favorite subject, but...you are adopted right?" As soon as the words left my mouth, I instantly felt bad and wished I could take them back. "I'm sorry, I'm really, really sorry––you don't have to answer that––"

"Clary, it's really not that big of a deal," Jace said, shutting me up. "I mean, not a lot of people know about it, and it's not like I'm comfortable sharing everything, but what's done is done.

"My real family, though I don't remember them all that well, was pretty jacked up. They had me when they were still in high school. My mom died of an overdose when I was six, and my dad, well he was a heavy drinker and got into a lot of trouble. I was on my own for the most part," Jace said, twisting his straw between his fingers, "and when my dad committed suicide when I was ten...the Lightwoods took me in." Though Jace tried to sound unaffected, I could hear the pain and solace laced behind his words.

My chest tightened. I would've never guessed Jace's childhood was that rough. He seemed like the perfect teenager now, popular, athletic, smart, handsome, but he went through so much. I was just glad to hear that, even though he was neglected, that his father had never abused him. To think that he had to grow up without a mother _or_ a father...

"I'm really sorry," I said, unable to think of anything else.

"Don't be, you have nothing to be sorry for," Jace said, sitting up and putting on a smile. "I turned out okay, didn't I?"

I twisted my lips together, "That's debatable."

We both laughed and I crossed my arms over the table, leaning forward. The illumination of the room made Jace's face a work of art, an infinite amount of shadows defining his strong, distinguishable features, his eyes seeming to light up even more, impossibly gold. Gold eyes. How rare was it to find a person with gold eyes? He was effortlessly beautiful, almost angelic.

"So Fairchild," Jace said, his gaze fortified on me, "tell me about yourself."

I instantly withdrew from our proximity and looked away, feeling my stomach churn. He'd told me everything, he'd been honest, so why couldn't I? Maybe it was because, though it was hard to believe, my childhood had been a million times worse. Jace had adjusted into a loving family and a new lifestyle, but my mom and I would always be denatured. We'd never be able to move on.

Before I could open my mouth, our waiter appeared, wearing that same smile. "Are you two ready to order?"

* * *

"Holy crap," I breathed, devouring the last of my pad Thai.

"I told you," Jace grinned smugly, "best food ever, right?"

"That's an understatement." I looked down at my plate that seemed to be bigger than me and was in disbelief that I was able to eat as much as I did. "I think I'll never be able to eat again. Thanks for making me fat Jace."

He scoffed. "Yes Clary, because you're _so _fat. How much do you weigh, forty pounds?"

I rolled my eyes. "_No_, thank you very much." I didn't want to tell him how much I actually weighed, because it was absolutely ridiculous for a junior in high school. But, considering I had absolutely no curves, and my legs were toothpicks, it was fitting.

"You in for dessert?" Jace smirked knowingly. "They have the best chocolate cake."

"Uh...eh...I..." Oh what the hell. "Sure."

Twenty or so minutes later and a huge piece of cake was placed in between us, leaving my jaw hanging open. "Jace, this would feed an entire army––no, an entire _nation_!"

Jace handed me a fork, "Well, we better let it not go to waste then, right?" Seeing as there was only one piece of cake, and two forks, Jace and I were going to have to _share. _I apprehensively took the fork and waited for him to take the first bite, then, being careful to stay on my side, began to eat one minuscule bite at a time.

Flavor exploded into my mouth, so much fudge and sugar, and gooeyness. I soon found myself going all out, actually fighting Jace for more, ignoring my full belly. When it came down to the last bite, we narrowed our eyes at each other and Jace took out a quarter from his wallet. "I call heads," he said, completely serious.

I leaned forward with a smirk, my fork ready. He swiftly placed the quarter on his thumb and it spun in the air, a display of reflected light, and then it landed perfectly in the center of his hand. I waited for the results. "Ha!" he exclaimed. "Heads!"

Just as he was about to claim his victory, I took the opportunity to sweep in and take the last of the heavenly chocolate and stuffed it in my mouth. Jace was amused nonetheless, but he widened his eyes and his mouth fell open, mocking shock. "You did not just do that."

I swallowed it all in one gulp and stuck out my tongue.

"You little thief. Next time," Jace said, "we're getting two cakes."

_Next time__. _Meaning...there was going to be a next time. I actually smiled.

* * *

"You know, it's really something when you see a girl the size of a doll eat more than a NFL player," Jace mused, leading me out of Taki's.

I laughed and shook my head. "Thanks for that, Jace. It was really...nice."

"Yeah, anytime Clary. I had fun."

He surprised me when he opened up the passenger door for me. I gave him a smile before I climbed in and watched as he shut the door and came around the other side. "Your truck actually isn't that bad," Jace breathed, turning the keys in the ignition. "The backseat isn't all that great, but..."

"I like it too," I said.

"So, are you going to tell me where you work now?"

"Promise you won't laugh?"

He smirked, "Depends."

"Ugh...Pet Palace..."

His eyes widened and he pressed his lips firmly together, muffling his laughter. "Do you?"

"Oh shut up."

"It makes sense, though," he inquired. "Why I ran into you there. And the manager also offered me a job, but I turned it down."

It wasn't all that awkward sitting so close to Jace, not anymore at least. When I glanced at the clock, though, I noticed that it was already _nine o'clock_! We'd been at Taki's for over two hours, but it didn't seem like that long at all. "I'm sorry," I exclaimed. "It's a school night, you probably have homework."

Jace shrugged once he realized what I was talking about. "It was worth it."

I felt my cheeks grow warm––_what is _wrong_ with you?!_

"Uh...Jace?" I asked hesitantly. "I really don't want to ruin this night, but...I'm...I––I don't know what to do about Isabelle..."

He released a heavy sigh and quirked his head to the side, contemplating on what to say next. "I'm no expert about..._that _kind of stuff, but, I do know that girls can be really mean."

"But...Isabelle wouldn't be acting this way towards me for no reason," I said exasperated, feeling the backs of my eyes sting. "I wish I knew what I did."

His eyes met mine for a brief second before he focused on the road again. "Clary, just knowing you, I know that you probably didn't do anything wrong."

"But I must've! She _hates _me. She said that we're not best friends anymore––"

"She could never hate you," Jace intervened quickly. "She didn't mean anything she said."

"How do you know that?"

"I just do...no one could hate you."

I took a deep breath and set my jaw. "You did."

Quiet.

We sat in tense silence for who knows how long. Jace would keep shooting me sideways looks, and I attempted to start a conversation a few times, but the words seemed to be jumbled up in my throat. "I don't think I ever hated you," he said quietly, after what seemed like years. "I think that...I only acted like I did towards you because...well, because you never gave me a chance."

"I'm really sorry I didn't. I wish that I could tell you why I was so awful to you, but it's...it's really complicated. And I feel so bad about how I acted. You were nothing but nice to me tonight, and I didn't deserve it––"

"Clary..." he trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words. "It doesn't matter anymore."

"But it does," I said, a little desperate. "Why are you being so...understanding and _friendly?"_

He answered without missing a beat. "I see no reason not to be."

I opened my mouth to say more, but he cut me off immediately. "Let's not talk about this anymore. Okay? I don't like you talking about yourself like this."

I settled into my seat, thankful for the escape, but unsatisfied.

* * *

When we pulled around the fountain, Jace shifted gears and looked over at me, slowly unbuckling his seatbelt. "You okay?"

I nodded and gave him a tremulous smile, sensing the change in the atmosphere. "Thank you-u, a-again, for tonight."

"I had a great time...even though you did steal my cake," he said, leaning forward slightly, as if to get a better look at me, his face barely visible in the dark.

"A girl's gotta eat," I laughed shakily. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

Jace nodded. "We'll have to get together soon to...uh... work on our project."

His eyes suddenly locked on me, slowly trailing up and down my face. I felt as still as statue when I found him staring at my lips, his gaze unwavering. I saw a muscle in his jaw jump, his demeanor stiffen, his expression turning unreadable. "J-Jace?" I squeaked. I went unheard and before I knew what was happening, he was getting closer and closer, my heart pounding against my chest. An unknown force willed me to give in and I felt myself leaning forward, our faces just inches from touching. To my surprise, I was eager and anxious in anticipation. My eyes closed as soon as our lips brushed, chills running pleasantly up my spine––

_Beep, beep,_ beep.

We broke apart as if shocked by lightning, my eyes snapping open. Jace quickly retrieved his phone from his pocket and looked down at the screen breathlessly, frowning at the name he saw.

He looked at me slowly, hesitantly. "You should probably go," I smiled briefly, disappointment and confusion flooding through me.

He nodded, no doubt in just as much shock as I was and slid out of my truck silently. "I'll, uh, see you tomorrow...Clary."

With that, he shut the door and was disappearing inside his house.

_What. Is. Going. On. With. Me._

* * *

**_SO CLOSE!_**

**What did you guys think? THANKS SO MUCH FOR ALL OF YOUR AMAZING REVIEWS! I love hearing what you all think of my chapters (: I'll have to update later on because I have to go somewhere in like an hour, but...hopefully there aren't too many errors.**

**Until next time, peace.**

**iLove you guys.**

* * *

**I was thinking about posting my version of how I think the last installment of the Mortal Instruments series, "City of Heavenly Fire", will go. Here's the prologue, tell me if I should post it as a fanfiction and what you think of it: **

* * *

_Prologue:_

She'd never known how cruel fate could be.

Numb, painful, and helpless, her life flashed before her eyes, quick flares of light followed by forgotten memories, memories she didn't even know she had, and others that could never be forgotten.

Wrapped in a tight bundle, cradled in her mother's arms, looking up at the most brilliant smile and green eyes.

Dressing up as princess Ariel for Halloween.

Making cookies all by herself for the first time––without anyone knowing––and ultimately causing the fire alarm to go off.

Watching movies with Luke from morning till midnight, snacking all day on buttery popcorn and peanut butter M&M's.

Her first day of school, walking through the double doors with Simon by her side, determined, and half the size of all the other midgets.

Being the only one in Mrs. Peterson's class to get a hundred percent on the spelling test.

Getting kicked out of Mr. Benson's class for rolling her eyes.

Getting detention for staring out the window.

Seeing Jace for the first time, the only light she could unveil in the dark, a mysterious shadow masking the angel he really was.

Their first kiss in the greenhouse, sticky, lips coated with apple juice.

The first time he'd said, "I love you."

Her throat was dry and her limbs, bloodied and bound together, were incapable of moving even the slightest inch. The sky was angry, stained crimson, the clouds like bundles of fire, scorching its former beauty. Death was in the air, she could smell it, but, other than the monster standing before her, she was alone.

Sebastian was smiling at it all: The quiet, the blood and its repulsing, salty aroma, his victory. His sister.

"It's beautiful," he said, his demon eyes soulless, unfazed. If Clary could talk, she'd be screaming at the top of her lungs, repeating the nasty and hateful thoughts swarming her mind. How was it that he couldn't feel anything? How was it that he looked so human, so beautiful, yet was a _demon_?

How was it that he'd won?

Sebastian leaned over her and shook his head, as if he were speaking down to a naughty toddler. "Bad day?" A terse laugh escaped him as his hands tangled in her hair, yanking her upper body off of the ground a few inches. Clary, even if she didn't have the rune of silence, would have refused to whimper or scream in pain. His fingers curled and twisted, pulling abusively on the thick tendrils, but she set her jaw, unable to keep the tears from welling up in her eyes. Sebastian's face was contorted with sudden rage. "You betrayed me," he seethed.

"I gave you everything, I treated you with more kindness than you deserved, I cared for you... and _you_ stabbed me right in the back." His eyes bore into hers, but she matched his glare, not willing to back down. "And look where that got you, Clarissa. Was this all you were hoping for?"

Sebastian's fingers contracted before he released his hold altogether and threw her back to the ground. Clary was viscously deprived of air as a merciless kick was aimed at her gut, again, and again. And again. "Now, there's no escaping me little sister," Sebastian spat, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "There's no one here to save you, no one here strong enough to defeat me! You belong to me now."

Breathing heavy, gasping on smoke and blood, Clary, despite the uselessness of it, began to thrash back and forth, her binds growing tighter and tighter, her will to keep conscious growing weaker and weaker._ I'll never belong to you!_ She wanted to shout. _Never. _

Sebastian was amused nonetheless. She was so weak, so helpless, so unyielding, but she was all he wanted. She was _his_. "There's still so much fire in you, isn't there?" He scoffed in near disbelief. "I could cut off all of your limbs and you'd still think you could stand a chance.

"Look around you Clarissa!" He cupped his hand around his ear, as if to enhance his hearing, a triumphant smile gracing his features. "There's nothing. Everyone you care about is either under my control now or _dead_. There's nowhere for you to run! You're FINALLY mine."

_He's right_, Clary thought bitterly, distantly, the spark inside of her dimming. She was all alone, and her own _brother _had free rein to do anything he wanted to her, no matter how brutal. He had all the power in the world.

"Now," Sebastian breathed, flinging her up off the ground, and over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing more than a rag doll. "Don't get too excited, Clarissa, but we're going to go burn down the world."

* * *

**For this story, I was going to include everything that Cassandra Clare has given us so far: snippets from the real book and the summary. I'm working on chapter one, but I want to make sure that before I post it I have some people that are interested in reading it.**

**I know that there are a lot of these out here, but...give mine a go. I'll make it as interesting as I can, and as realistic as possible(: **


	14. The Truth Comes Out

**The title is an indicator in itself, but for those of you who are dying to hear Clary's story...here you go!**

* * *

_The Truth Comes Out:_

**~Jace~**

As soon as I slammed the door to my house, I raced to the kitchen, my breathing out of control, in a frenzy of what almost happened. With _Clary_. I held my phone up to my ear, my mind swiveling, a muddled mess, confused about the desire I'd felt, the disappointment afterwards, and the sudden drive that had compelled _me _to suddenly try and kiss her. She'd just looked so beautiful in the moment, and it was so quiet, so inviting. I had no control over myself. I'd just _wanted _her so badly.

"H-hi Kaelie?" I breathed.

"Jace!" she squealed, making me wince. "Why are you panting? Did you just like get back from a run or something?"

"No-o." My throat was _so _dry. And since when did I stutter?

"Oh. Are you okay?"

_What is wrong with you?! Keep it together!_

"Yeah, everything's great. Why'd you call?"

She giggled. "I was just really eager to see you tomorrow and I couldn't wait to hear your voice."

_Clary. _Why. What. Gah.

"I can do that to people," I said smoothly, raking an unsteady through my hair.

"You're so cute!"

Why did flirting with Kaelie seem so wrong? I was able to flirt like crazy with her just the other day. I liked her, didn't I? And I couldn't like Clary, not after just barely becoming friends. I did _not _like Clary. I was just confused. She's an attractive girl, and it was a one-time thing. I was _never _going to have feelings for her.

Never.

"Jace? You still there?"

"Oh––yeah," I said quickly.

"Do you think you have a fever?"

"That must be it," I swallowed.

"You poor thing," she cooed. "I hope you feel better. I'll call you later––"

"No!" I exclaimed.

She laughed. "What?"

"I mean...I have something to ask you first," I drawled out, unsure. I liked Kaelie. She liked me. We were allowed to talk. I didn't like Clary. _Prove it, Jace._ "Um...I normally do this kind of thing in person, but since we're already talking, I was wondering if you'd like to grab dinner with me sometime?"

Kaelie was barely able to contain her excitement. "Yes! Sure, I'd love that!"

"Great, I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Yes you will!"

* * *

After history, I'd yet to confront Clary. We went throughout the entire class without even acknowledging each other. We'd almost _kissed_. I couldn't pretend that it didn't happen, and neither could she, but neither of us seemed to be willing to accept that.

So, that's why I was extremely surprised when Clary stopped me as soon as we exited the classroom. She had a grin on her face, completely parallel to how I thought she'd be like. "So, I know we have to work on the project, and I really want to finish it, but I don't think I can handle... going over to your house," she said, looking down briefly. "But...my mom has a date with her boyfriend tonight, and it'll just be me when I get home after work. Do you think you could come over––to work...on the project?"

I was in near shock. It was like she was completely ignorant of last night. How was she able to stand there, looking completely unaffected? Was she just as confused about..._us _as I was? As of right now, she wasn't, I guess.

"Uh...yeah. Sure. That sounds good. I'll come by around seven, after practice and I have dinner."

Her eyes locked with mine and her grin turned into a soft smile. "About last night––" she began.

"Jace!"

We both jumped at Kaelie's sudden appearance. I stiffened. Now was _so _not a good time. Kaelie flung herself in my arms, planting a kiss on my cheek. I felt like a robot when I reciprocated her hug, unable to breath.

"I missed you so much," she said.

There was a girl in my arms, a girl that I had just asked out the other night, but the only person that I could think about was Clary. My stomach and throat switched places. She was looking down at her feet, and I must've been looking at her a lot longer than I thought because Kaelie pulled away from me, realizing that she didn't have my full attention. When she turned around and noticed that I'd been talking with someone else, she placed her hand to her chest. "Oh my gosh! Did I interrupt you guys?"

Clary looked up quickly and shook her head. "Oh, no! You're fine. I'll just...see you later, Jace," Clary rushed, and then she turned on her heel, disappearing from my sight.

* * *

I was waiting outside of Clary's apartment, nervous and anxious. I took in my settle surroundings. There was a plant across the hall, but it looked dead. It was shriveled up and curled in on itself, taking on a sickening black hue. Poor plant.

I was just about to knock again when the door swung open and Clary, in a sweatshirt and sweats, with her hair pulled back, was standing in front of me with a small smile on her face. "Jace."

"Clary, I want to apologize for earlier––" I began, but she cut me off.

"No, it's totally fine! You have nothing to be sorry for," she drawled out, her fingers fiddling on the handle. "You're, um, early."

"Yeah sorry," I said, contemplating on whether or not she meant it. She had a mask of happiness on, but her eyes told me otherwise. "Isabelle was...in bitch mode and Alec was grumpier than usual, so...I decided that we might as well get ahead while we still can."

"Yeah, of course," she said quickly. "Oh––uh, come in."

She gestured me inside and closed the door behind me. I'd never been inside of Clary's apartment, but I didn't expect there to be all of the wild accents and paintings hanging on the walls, or her vibrant red couch and furniture. It was small, but quiet and cozy, and interesting.

"My mom likes to paint, these are all hers," Clary said beside me.

"She's really good," I said, taking my hands out of my pockets. "Do you paint?"

Clary shook her head, keeping her eyes locked on the floor. "No, but I draw."

"You any good?"

"I'll let you be the judge of that."

* * *

Clary and I were both sitting on the floor, in tense silence, leaning against her bed. I was typing up the various descriptions we'd come up with together while she was supposedly drawing the Battle of Bunker Hill. I'd offered to just print off an image from Google, but she was set on drawing all of the pictures herself. Whatever...more work for her, I guess.

The only sound in the room was her pencil working furiously against her sketchpad. I tried to sneak a couple glances down at her progress, but her body was angled in a way that I couldn't see anything other than her shadow. I felt extremely bad for Kaelie's invasion, but I wasn't sure why. It wasn't like Clary and I had been together and I was cheating on her...But we kissed.

"Okay, done," she suddenly exclaimed, ripping out the sheet of paper and holding it out for me.

I smirked her way before looking down, honestly not expecting much. "Let's see what took you so lon––"

I wasn't looking at a drawing, I was looking at a photograph. There was no way that a person was capable of such skill. Lines, dark and bold, and slim and light, and jagged and smooth all twisted together to create Confederate and Patriot soldiers, the smoke, ash, and battle behind them. It was beautiful, and that was saying a lot considering how gory it was.

"You did this?" I asked, in awe, barely above a whisper.

I could see her nod in my peripheral vision, but I couldn't take my eyes off of the masterpiece. "Shit," I breathed. "Why didn't you tell me you could draw this good?"

She giggled softly. "You never asked."

"Actually I di––This is truly amazing," I said, almost laughing at what an understatement that was. I tore my eyes away from the picture in my hands to stare at her. She was so talented it wasn't even funny. Why had I never known this about her? That her drawings could put the work of angels to shame? _Okay, I sound _so_ cheesy._

"Thank you." Her eyes met mine, sparkling as her smiled broadened, erasing the awkward vibe that came with us being alone in her room. Her hair tumbled around her face like a curtain when she looked back down, her focus intent on her sketchbook again. "Do you want me to draw...like a boat with tea getting thrown overboard?"

_Was she saying something?_

"Jace?"

The slight curve of her lips, how her jaw was aligned so softly, how everything about her appeared to be so delicate and pretty when she wasn't delicate at all. Her hair was easily the brightest thing in her room, tendrils of long, thick red curls. _Red_. Lighter than crimson, yet darker than a cherry. Bold and rich, impossibly brilliant against her fair skin. _  
_

Then she was looking at me again. And up close, her eyes weren't just green, but a kaleidoscope of different shades, flecked with golds and other assortments of light jade, dark emerald, and mesmerizing hunter.

"Um Jace? Jace...Jace?" Her hand was suddenly in my face, waving back and forth. "Jace! Snap out of it––do I have something on my face?"

I blinked suddenly and looked away, escaping from my odd, untimely daze. "So, should I draw the boat-tea thing?" She asked.

"For what?"

She rolled her eyes and chuckled. "For the Tea Act, sheesh. Are you okay?"

I absentmindedly rubbed the back of my neck and gave her a tremulous smile. What was wrong with me? I shouldn't be having these thoughts about her, I should be able to focus. Our proximity was distracting, if I leaned any closer, we'd be touching––_stop_.

_I just asked out Kaelie. _Stop_._

"Yeah fine, just...tired."

"Okay...well wake up," she joked, slightly nudging me with her arm. "We'll both have other homework to worry about, so let's just finish this thing up."

"Yeah, okay."

* * *

I had finished typing a long time ago and was just watching Clary draw away, my interest never ceasing. "So..." she said, feeling my heavy gaze on her as she continued to work. "What's it like being Jace Wayland?"

My brows furrowed with confusion. "What do you mean?"

She scoffed. "You know exactly what I mean," she said, her voice playful. She stopped drawing and placed her book and pencil to the right of her, giving me her full, undivided attention. "Oh come on," she persisted upon seeing that I actually had no idea. "You're Mr. Perfect. Everybody loves you, you have girls practically crawling after you, you're insanely popular. What's it like?"

I shrugged, feeling uneasy. "I...don't know. It's...um...nice, I guess?"

Her eyes widened and she nodded once, pulling her lips together. "It's_ nice_?"

"Uh, yeah. What did you expect me to say?"

"I don't know...something more than just 'nice'. I just expected that you'd be more excited about it. You practically have the world in your hands."

I sighed, shifting uncomfortably. Being popular wasn't really something I had to worry about, I just was. I'm not trying to sound more arrogant than usual, but I've never known any different. Even when I was younger, still living with my father, I found comfort being at school because I was welcomed there, by seemingly everyone.

But that didn't mean I was living on clouds.

"You're popular too, Clary," I said.

She gave me a disbelieving look and laughed. "Not in the same way. _Everyone _knows you."

"They don't actually know me, though," I countered. "They think they do, but...I'm judged a lot on rumors and looks. Sometimes I feel like people only want to be friends with me just because I'm popular. I feel like I have fake friendships with half of the people I know. They don't _know _me."

Clary paused, sucking in a breath and averting her attention elsewhere. "I'm sorry, I didn't think about it that way."

"Yeah...the grass isn't always greener on the other side," I said, but despite the lightness in my tone, Clary suddenly tensed. Her eyes snapped towards me and narrowed.

"Clar––?"

"What did you just say?"

"I––uh...I...'the grass isn't always'––?"

She was suddenly on her feet and dashing towards her door. "Clary? Clary––Clary, what the hell?" I jumped to my feet and made a move to follow her.

She whirled around. "Just leave me alone!" she snapped.

I was taken aback. "What are you talking about?"

"Why did you have to say that?"

"What––?"

"_That_," she yelled angrily. I noticed her eyes getting glossy and cheeks reddening. She placed her hands to her eyes before abruptly fisting them in her hair as if she would explode at any moment.

"Clary, you're not making any sense."

"I'm just...breaking under the pressure of all of it," Clary sobbed suddenly, her fragile body trembling. "There's so much I have to worry about, but I can't tell anyone because no one will listen anymore!"

"Hey," I said firmly, despite feeling uneasy about her current state. How was it that she went from being all smiles and calm to _this_? She was breathing heavily and thick tears began to spill onto her cheeks. "Clary, stop. You're scaring me."

Clary wrapped her arms around her torso as if to comfort herself and hunched over, her hair hiding her expression. I slowly approached her. "I have no one anymore," she exclaimed, her voice cracking like my angry facade.

This girl was really hurting.

"Isabelle hates me! Simon won't even look at me."

By this point she seemed to be losing control, muttering nonsense to herself under her breath, sucking in air and swaying slightly on her feet. Afraid that she would collapse at any second, I place a firm hand on her shoulder, willing her to calm down. I had no idea what I was doing, or what I should be doing. I couldn't tell if she wanted to be alone or not.

She'd changed demeanors on me like a light switch.

"Clary––you're...it's going to be okay––"

"It's not!" She snapped. "How can you say that! You don't know ANYTHING!" Though she was screaming at me, she doesn't care to move herself away from me and stands her ground.

"I'll listen Clary," I said, finding it hard to sound steady. "I'm here for you...I'll listen."

She begins to shake her head vigorously. "Why is everything so messed up!"

"Clary..."

"Why did you have to say that?" She repeats to herself. "Jace––"

"Clary...I don't get it. What did I do?"

She sucks in a few harsh breaths and her eyes glare up at me. "You wouldn't, would you?"

A sob escaped her and I had an annoyingly strong urge to comfort her––but she was just so unpredictable. "You remind me of Jonathan. He used to say that," Clary whispered.

Confusion hit me with an iron fist. "Jonathan––who's Jonathan?"

She looked so small, even smaller than usual, and weak. I hated this.

"He..." she averted her gaze down to my shoes and her expression left me feeling incredibly guilty, even though I had done nothing. "He was my brother."

I thought back to every memorable encounter I had had with Clary. Even if Clary and I hadn't been the best of friends in the past and I didn't know much about her, wouldn't I have known something like this? Wouldn't Isabelle have said something?

"I didn't know you have brother," I told her.

She smiled sadly, "Had."

"Oh." My stomach churned uncomfortably. "Clary, I'm so sorry...you don't have to––"

"I want to," she sniffed. "I don't know why, but I do. You deserve to know. You've been there for me, and even after everything I did to you, you've been my friend. I want you to understand. And I _need _you to listen."

I cleared my throat in an attempt to lessen the strength of the intense atmosphere, but it didn't help.

"Do you...um...let's sit down," I suggested and I awkwardly sat on the edge of her bed, Clary slowly trailing behind me. She sits right next to me, practically snuggling into my side, her calf crammed against my own. I don't mind though, not in the slightest, I even pull her closer. I wanted her to be okay, to stop being upset, to stop crying. "Shhh, it's okay."

She took a deep breath and a few tears spilled onto her cheeks, my fingers barely resisting to wipe them away. "Now I'm going to have to tell you everything," she breathed, sounding as if she were talking to herself more than to me. She let out a humorless laugh, heavy with emotion. Then her eyes met mine.

She was just so close and her face, dusted with settle freckles, was like a beautiful puzzle. I couldn't help but single out that one small dot just below the arch of her eyebrow. It was like a star that stood out in the vast sky.

It took a long time before she said anything, the more time that ticked away and Clary cried, the more my anxiety grew. "I'm not from New York," she finally said, quietly, "let alone anywhere near here. I spent the first twelve years of my life living in Paris,Texas...in a mobile home. My last name wasn't Fairchild, it was Morgenstern––my dad's last name." Her voice darkened when she mentioned her dad and her eyes seemed to fog over, like she was lost in some distant memory. "The four of us––my mom, my dad, my brother and I were living like a bunch of sardines.

"I was always... so afraid to go home," she said, her breathing erratic. "I got in huge trouble once when I was nine because I was caught sleeping in the school library. A janitor found me around midnight and when my parents had to come pick me up, my dad was furious." She shook her head, mirroring my thoughts. I could hardly comprehend what I was hearing. I wasn't even sure _what_ I was hearing yet, but it wasn't good.

"He was a monster. A tyrant. He treated all of us like we were his property; like we belonged to him. Whatever he said went, and if it didn't..." She trailed off momentarily,_ almost_ giving me enough time to let everything sink in.

I had no idea Clary had an abusive childhood. I certainly didn't have a past filled with sunshine and butterflies, but... She had lead me to believe that she was perfectly happy. A girl like her––pretty, smart, and talented, that had everything going for her, should be happy. However that wasn't the case at all. In this moment, her eyes failing to reach mine, her body huddled into my side for comfort, I could see how truly miserable she was. How ignorant I was.

The idea of Clary frightened, for some reason, hurtled right into my gut and I unconsciously clenched my fists together, only realizing it after I felt my nails biting into my skin.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to hear this, but she needed someone to listen. She needed me. And for some odd reason she was opening up to me and maybe by telling me it would help her. Keeping everything about my father and mother bottled up left me hindered for an unspeakable amount of time, and just getting some of my stress out of my system did wonders for me. I know that two minutes ago I wanted nothing more than to throw her sketchbook at her, she'd exploded at me for no reason, but right now, all I wanted to do was hold her and tell her that everything was going to be okay. That she wasn't alone.

She took a long, shaky breath. "When Jonathan was ten and I was six, my dad began coming home really late. He was never around that much to begin with, but he was always there for some reason when I went to bed, and then he just wasn't. My mom just told me that he was needed at work, but even then I knew better.

"And then, like _that_...he was suddenly _always_ home, always with a pack or two of beers by his side. He was like a watchdog and he was in tune with our every move. He just snapped at the most random times," she shuddered in recollection. "I cried every day because I knew that he was hurting my mom and I was terrified to leave her alone with him. But I was so young and there wasn't anything I could really do about it. My mom stopped painting and she seemed to just stop living...she no longer cared what my dad did to her...and that's when he started hurting my brother.

"He would––" Clary suddenly began to sob and she buried her head in her hands. Without hesitation I placed my hand on her back and began to make soothing circles.

"Shh," I whispered. "It's all right, Clary...you don't have to tell me."

"No," she said, her voice powerful and steady, muffled by her tears. "I'm ready. I need to."

"Okay," I stifled.

She gave herself a few minutes to let everything out before she took a few deep breaths and sat up straight again, but I didn't bother to remove my hand, it was out of the question. She kept her eyes glued to her lap, and at this angle I could see how red her cheeks had gotten. I really hated it when she cried, I realized.

"Okay..." she tried to laugh, but it sounded drained and miserable, and, as if she realized how stupid she thought she sounded, she shook her head. "I really don't know how I'm going to be able to talk about this. My therapist couldn't even get me to cooperate."

I exhaled, damning the man who had hurt her. Who made this seemingly strong girl terrified.

"Whenever you're ready," I said softly.

She nodded, as if accepting a challenge and clenched her jaw together. "He would use his belt––my dad––and whip Jonathan as hard as he could," Clary began, sucking in a breath. "My mom went mad and even tried to stop him once, but he just threw her off of him and laughed. He _laughed_. He got the reaction he was looking for, but only from my mom; Jonathan never cried, even though he was only twelve, because he tried to be brave...for me." She sounded guilty, as if she thought it was her fault.

"Clary...you couldn't of done anything––" I said desperately.

"I could have. I just didn't because I was scared." Bitter and angry, she scoffed, in a hurry to continue, to get it over with. "After a few years, my dad must've gotten tired of trying to get Jonathan to scream and lower himself to his standards by hurting him so... he began to hurt me."

She shook her head again and scrunched up her nose. "I wish that I could've been like Jonathan...but every time he hit me I-I screamed bloody murder and I cried until my eyes felt dry. I guess it wasn't just because of how bad it hurt, but because I knew that my dad didn't care about me. He just kept me around to prove a point.

"Jace," Clary whispered, her eyes finally meeting mine, shattering me into pieces. "I never got to be anyone's little angel. My dad never even told me he loved me...I never got to go over to any of my friends' houses or be in girl scouts...The only toy I had was a Barbie doll that my friend gave me at school for my birthday. I went to bed every night hungry and terrified to wake up." She began to bawl and I pulled her against me, forcing her to relax into my arms.

What could I tell her to make it better? _Nothing_. I couldn't say or do anything. I felt pathetic. _Please stop Clary, please stop._

_I couldn't hear this anymore––_

"My dad was so evil," she spat through tears, her palms fisting together, knuckles turning white. "He used to make my mom and Jon watch as he whipped me with his belt. He carried on forever it seemed, until my back was as...as red as my hair. They screamed at him and cried because I was in pain. I felt so... useless!

"It went on like that for a long time. We were his slaves. Every time Jon tried to pull him off of me it only got uglier. Then..." Clary gasped for air and I stroked her hair, pulling her harder against me. I was trembling with anger and sympathy, my self restraint to just sit still flying out the window. "One night...he crossed the line. He-he...he took m-my..." Clary began to clutch my shirt with her fingers like I was her lifeline. She nuzzled her head into my chest and closed her eyes, my grip around her constricting. "He raped me."

I couldn't help it and I let out a muffled sigh, "No." What an awful, awful, _vile_ man.

"I was only twelve," she whimpered. "Oh...God. I was so terrified and small and I had never been in so much pain––not even after he'd hit me." She let out a few harsh breaths and I held her even tighter, to the point where I thought that she might be in pain. But I didn't want to let go. I couldn't. "And...I guess that was the last straw because my mom, that very same night, took Jonathan and me away. To California."

She let out a hoarse chuckle and a sob at the same time. "I have no idea why it took so long...but I loved it there. I finally felt like I could move freely and carelessly in my own home. Like I wasn't walking on thin ice anymore. I didn't know what happened to my father, my mom never told me, I just knew that he would never bother us again-n. And even though I had nightmares all the time, and all of the therapy I had didn't do anything for me, I had my mom and brother.

"She began to paint again. Jonathan began to smile. I felt safe for the first time in my life. But...Then...the unthinkable happened," Clary sighed helplessly, darkly, securing her hold on my shirt. I hadn't loosened my grip on her one bit. "Jonathan was only eighteen and he...oh my God..." Clary's sobs were fortified, each breath of despair she released nearly sending me over the edge. "He got in a car accident. I was _devastated_––I still am. And so was my mom. But, unlike me, she wanted to get as far away from the memory of his death as possible and she moved us across the country.

"For two years I was finally happy and I felt like everything might just work out," she breathed, sounding exhausted, her voice still louder than normal. "I loved him so much! When he died...it triggered something inside me. It made my memories so much clearer and scary and real. I was miserable and just wanted him to be with me in any way possible."

Then she was quiet and I rocked her back and forth, my eyes stinging. I held onto her every word. It was the worse horror story imaginable––and it happened to Clary, the girl that was so small and gentle and kind.

Now I felt insanely awful for ever reciprocating her hatred. I wish that I would've driven her to school that day and tried harder to become her friend sooner.

She looked up at me, so hurt and sad. "I'm so sorry Jace."

"What?" I said, astonished, barely able to think straight.

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "I had no right to treat you the way I did."

"No Clary––it's okay, you have nothing to be sorry about––"

"I had no right to hate you, " she said, ignoring me. "Do you remember the first time we met?"

I nodded carefully. As if it were yesterday. "Yes."

"The first time I saw you...it broke my heart," she told me and I had trouble keeping my mouth shut.

_Why?_

"Jace...every time I saw you, I saw so much of my brother in you. I hated you and I was so mean to you because you were a constant reminder that he was gone. That he'd never hug me again, or that he'd never draw again, or that I would never see him smile again. I associated you with him and because of it I just seemed to hate you more and more every time I saw you.

"And when I finally gave you a chance...when I actually spent time with you and stopped being angry, I realized that I completely forgot about everything." At this, she sounded almost triumphant. "I don't think about my dad, and even if I do at first glance, I forget about Jonathan. Jace, when I'm with you I feel like it's just you and me...and I don't feel like that with anyone else.

"It's terrifying really and beyond confusing, but it's true."

Now it all made sense. If only I had known, if only I could've been there for her even when she wanted to push me away. I was literally a ghost from her past, though I don't know why exactly.

If I were her, I'd hate me too––but she _didn't_ hate me.

"You're both so arrogant and cocky," Clary chuckled lightly, "and good at everything you do. Everyone who met Jonathan loved him...like you. You're both funny, and smart...and charismatic, and handsome. You're just so similar. How could I have possibly hated you?" She shook her head in my shirt and let out another sob. "But you're also so different...Jace, I'm so sorry. I don't deserve your kindness right now, not after how I treated you...and you should still hate me––I gave you every reason to. When I look at it from your point of view I was just mean to you for no reason, and that's not fair––"

"Clary," I cut her off sharply, even though it was partially true. But how could I hate Clary after I knew everything? How could I hate her when I felt so strongly about her past and...protective about her? "_Stop_. I don't hate you. We're friends now and I do not hate you. I was stupid and treated you just as badly," I said darkly.

"How can you say that?!" She suddenly stiffened in my arms, but I didn't loosen my hold.

"Because it's true," I told her. "You had a reason for everything you did...I was only mean to you because I was angry that you never gave me a chance, that you weren't like the other girls who actually liked me."

"I'm sorry," she cried.

"No, Clary...I'm so, _so_ sorry. Hearing your story..." I trailed off, not knowing how to finish.

"You're the only one, besides my mom, who knows everything," Clary said after a while, igniting my confusion.

"What? Don't Simon and Is––?"

"No. Simon knows, but I left out a lot. And Isabelle only knows that I had an abusive father."

"Why did you tell me then?"

"I don't know," she breathed heavily, nuzzling her nose into my shirt, increasing her hold. "I really don't, but...I just wanted to. You told me your story and I trust you."

* * *

**Here it is, chapter 14...pretty sad in my opinion. What do you think?**

**I'll edit tomorrow.**

**PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW! Give me some feedback because it encourages me to write and update!**

**Until next time,**

**Peace.**


	15. I Won't Leave You

**JUST TRYING TO GET MY POINT ACROSS: Okay so one of my reviews thinks that Clary telling Jace about her past was a little rushed, but my intention was to emit how strong she feels she can trust him ALREADY. She has no one else––Isabelle and Simon won't give her the time of day, she's completely alone. Her dad is contacting her, she's stressed out. JACE is there.**

**Sorry for that little rant, but…**

* * *

I didn't put this in bold because I know that most of you guys ignore the author's notes, but a few chapters back I made a mistake and said 'fall break', but they're really going on WINTER BREAK. So the next time they go to school, it will be the next semester.

* * *

_I Won't Leave You:_

**~Clary~**

Jace kept his arm around me and rocked me back and forth as I cried uncontrollably. I didn't want to burden him by telling him about my past, nor did I want him to pity me, but I just couldn't stop once I had started. Everything that I had kept locked away, festering inside of me, haunting my every waking moment, just poured out with no filter.

Now he knew. He knew _everything_.

'The grass isn't always greener on the other side, Clary,' Jonathan had said to me countless times, his voice still as clear as daylight. Though it wasn't necessarily true, that was what he had always told me to cheer me up when I didn't think I could handle any more of my father's hatred and fury.

Jon is the reason why I wake up everyday. He had been my best friend, my only source of comfort and reassurance. I had never been more depressed and lost when he'd first passed away, not even after everything that I had been through. I was trapped in an abyss, swimming in misery and solace. But, when I was forced to move to New York and I met Isabelle, I realized that there were more people that cared about me, that Jon wanted me to be happy. He wouldn't of wanted me to be the person that I had become.

So I did my best to start over, wipe my slate clean and just _live_. But, in doing so, I tried to forget, learning the hard way that no matter what, no matter how much times passed, I would never be able to. Getting everything out in the open felt amazing and sickening all at the same time.

And I had told Jace. If it had been anyone else I'm almost positive that I wouldn't of been able to do it, and, even if I had just barely befriended him and he confused me greatly, I trusted him. He'd told me about his life, he'd been there for me that night at the Pandemonium, and comforted me more times now than I could count.

He truly was my friend.

"I'm sorry," I breathed, my face hot and feverish. I had no idea why I cried, it didn't do anything to help, if anything it just seemed to make matters worse, and it always gave me a scorching headache afterwards. "I shouldn't of told you so soon."

Jace responded by pulling me further into his chest, his hands rubbing my back in a lulling motion. "_I_'m sorry, Clary, for everything I did to you."

I made a sound of protest and shook my head against his shirt. "Jace..."

"I had no idea that you had to go through so much," he pressed. "That you have to live with that everyday...You're so strong Clary."

"I'm not," I countered, my throat painfully dry and swollen. "I-if I-I was strong, I wouldn't be crying."

He scoffed, to my surprise, and I felt his chin rub against the top of my head as he shook his head back and forth. "_Clary_. Just because you cry doesn't mean you're weak. I can't even begin to comprehend what you had to go through. I thought that my life had been rough, and I dealt with it by sulking in my room for years and living off of football. It took me a long time to open up to the Lightwoods. But _you_. Even if you're still recovering and will probably never feel..._normal _again, you're giving yourself the opportunity to have the life that you deserve." A soft chuckle escaped him, vibrating through me. "You really had me fooled Clary."

I absentmindedly smiled. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?" he laughed, his smirk playing vividly in my mind.

"You didn't even have to think," I said quietly, "and you just knew what to say to make me feel better."

"I don't know...it's true, Clary, and...I've learned from experience. Even if our pasts are in no way similar, I still understand what other people don't. I know how hard it is to keep moving forward, I struggle with it everyday, and it's even harder to open up and talk about it."

"You opened up to me," I breathed, not intending for him to hear me.

"I felt like I could trust you too."

We sat in comfortable silence, my tears eventually stopped flowing, and my thoughts became less of a struggle to keep up with. "Jace?" I asked hesitantly.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for listening," I said, pausing briefly. "I know this is a lot to ask of you...but please don't––don't just abandon me. I know I can be a pain in the ass and stubborn, but don't give up on me, okay? These past few weeks without Isabelle and Simon have been..._awful_." My heart clenched, afraid of what his response might be.

Jace didn't miss a beat. "Clary, I won't ever leave you. I will _never_ do that to you."

* * *

"Hi, baby," my mother chimed as she strolled into the kitchen. I sat at the kitchen table, munching groggily on a granola bar, its bland taste canceling out the sweetness from my orange juice. She ran a hand through my hair before making her way to the coffee maker. "Sorry I got home so late," she smiled. She was beaming, a happy aura surrounding her, her cheeks glowing under their rosy hue.

"Someone's in a good mood," I said cautiously, eyeing her up and down.

She spun around, giggling like a school girl, and did a little dance in the air. "You're right. I _am_."

I laughed and shook my head. "It's a little too early in the morning Mom––you're pregnant!"

Her draw dropped and she shook her head, "NO!" After she rolled her eyes, she stuck out her left hand, revealing a gorgeous diamond on the finger adjacent to her pinky. I gasped and jumped to my feet, my eyes widening and a smile that matched her's spread across my features. "Mom!" I squealed. "He proposed?!"

"Yep!"

I wrapped her in a tight embrace and she kissed the top of my head. "Congratulations Mom––!"

The phone suddenly began to ring and my entire being grew cold, the moment ruined.

My mom jumped away from me, her expression mirroring my thoughts, and reached for the phone, her eyes lingering nervously over the caller ID.

* * *

**Sorry that it's short, but...thought that it ended with a cliffhanger to get you thinking about what's going happen next week.**

**Do me a favor and go check out my new fanfic, _Captured. _I'm actually really proud of it and it would mean the world to me if you gave it a shot.  
**

**REVIEW(:**

**Peace.**


	16. The End of the Semester

**HINT: Isabelle and Clary showdown...**

* * *

_The End of the Quarter:_

**~Clary~**

My mom's breathing hitched. Long after she'd ended the call, which had been abrupt and without hesitation, her eyes stayed glued to the phone, refusing to meet mine. "Mom?" I said slowly, taking nimble steps towards her.

Her happy semblance had shattered and for a terrifying moment I saw the old Jocelyn, completely drained of life. The one that was standing right in front of me, but wasn't _there_. As if startled, she flinched and looked up, a quick and sloppy smile plastered to her face. She laughed breathlessly and rolled her eyes, "It was those people trying to get money again––"

"Mom...you don't have to lie," I said carefully.

Shock was emitted from her expression. "Clary…"

"It was him, right? It was...my dad?" The words tasted bitter in my mouth, like a curse word I knew I wasn't supposed to say.

She stayed silent, having trouble keeping eye contact with me.

"Are you going to answer me?"

_Nothing._

"Mom?" I pleaded. "_Fine_. I _know_ it was him. He's called more than once, Mom, when I was here and you weren't."

She began to shake her head and placed a hand over her eyes. I wanted to comfort her, to pull her in my embrace and tell her that it was going to be okay, but I couldn't. I was actually angry at her––did she really think that she could just keep something like this from me? Even if she'd been keeping it a secret to protect me, I had the right to know.

What if I'd never found out he'd been contacting us and then one day he just suddenly showed up?

My mom, despite her current state, didn't cry. She stayed mute, infuriating me even more. "Mom, _look at me_," I demanded, but she pretended as if she hadn't heard me. "You can't hide this from me anymore! I know that _Valentine_ has been calling us, I know that he's been sending us letters in the mail. You can't protect me like this. Ignoring it isn't going to change anything. We need to go the police Mom, or––"

"I've tried Clary," she suddenly snapped, removing her hand from her face to reveal her angry glare. "I'm doing everything I can to keep you safe."

I scoffed. "How is not knowing keeping me safe?"

"I…" she swallowed heavily. "You've been making so much progress Clary and I didn't want you to have to start all over. I thought that if I handled it myself, that if I got the police to go arrest him or something, that you wouldn't ever have to find out. But…"

"But?" I asked nervously.

She rolled her reddening eyes and clenched her jaw. "It's not that simple. They can't arrest him if he hasn't done anything––"

"But he has! He abused us for years and he…" I trailed off, the fury in my voice evaporating. It wasn't so easy to throw everything out in the open like it had been with Jace last night. Hands were suddenly around me and I allowed her to pull me into her chest, my anger towards her forgotten.

"I know baby," my mom sighed, stroking my hair.

"Why can't they arrest him?" I pressed.

"He's still in Texas, Clary. As long as he's not in the same state as us the police here can't do much except keep us under close surveillance. They blocked his number, but they can't do anything about him calling us if he blocks his own number."

"Does Luke know?" I said after awhile, torn about what I wanted the answer to be. It'd be nice if he knew so I knew that I didn't have to hide it from him, but...I had known him for a long time now. A feeling deep in my gut, though unnecessary, had me worried that Luke, if he knew about my past, has been looking at me differently all this time than if he thought I was just an ordinary teenager.

Has Luke been _too_ gentle with me?

She pulled away from me and our eyes met. "He's known about...Valentine for a couple years now, but he doesn't know that he's been trying to reach out to us yet. I was going to tell him last night before he proposed and... I didn't want to ruin the night. I'll tell him soon."

I nodded, feeling my stomach drop. "So...what about the letters?" I asked. "Dorothea gave me the set of keys she had for our mailbox––"

"She has keys to _our_ mailbox?" my mother exclaimed, but I chose to ignore her considering there were way more important matters at hand.

"_And_ she gave them to me. Every time I check the mail, though, it's already gone."

She looked down. "That's my doing, if you haven't already guessed."

"Can I see––"

"No," she said sharply. "I still don't want you to read any of them. And the ones I haven't already turned into the police I've burned."

"Mom," I protested.

"Clary…" she let out a ragged breath. "Please, just...don't argue with me about this. It's for the best."

My heart clenched. I wanted to read them_ so_ bad, even more than before. She didn't want me to read them, even if I knew about them, because they were..._what_? What was so bad about those letters––in addition to the person who had sent them? Being told I couldn't see them only made me want to see them more.

But pressing the issue was futile. I was my mother's daughter after all and she was more stubborn than I was. "Okay," I sighed as she pulled me in for another hug.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Clary," she whispered, kissing my forehead. "And I promise that he's never going to hurt us again."

I wished that I could believe her.

* * *

The weeks that followed consisted of working at Pet Palace, going to Jace's home games, and surprisingly hanging out with Jace and his crowd. Yes, people were extremely confused at first that we went from being infamous enemies to seemingly close friends, but most of them already knew me from past encounters and thankfully liked me. At lunch, instead of going home or to Starbucks, I sat with Jace and his new girlfriend Kaelie, and a few other members from the football team and cheerleading squad.

Our project had been a success and Mr. Starkweather, when we had turned in our poster––on time––was genuinely impressed. He was so impressed in fact that he double checked our descriptions to make sure we hadn't plagiarized them.

Jace, of course, found this extremely complimenting to his ego and went on and on about how _he _had really done a great job. In the time that Jace and I had become friends I found that I really enjoyed being around him. I was excited for history and lunch and after school when he'd talk to me by my locker until he had to go to practice. He didn't treat me any differently, which I appreciated, but he was much more protective and active when it came to being around me, never going back on the promise that he'd made.

I had also gone over to Aline's house a couple times now to hang out, though I found her annoying at times when all she wanted to do was gossip.

I was making a lot more friends, but I was still grieving over Isabelle and Simon. I don't think I'll ever be able to get over them. Every time I see them in the halls Isabelle, with Maia by her side, will always give me a cold glare, especially if I have Aline, Jace, or Kaelie with me. And Simon, well...he pretends as if he doesn't see me, keeping his head down and meshing into the crowd.

"Hey Fairchild," Jace chimed, popping up to my left and slowing his pace.

"Hey Jace," I acknowledged, sending him a smile.

The final bell had rung not even two minutes ago but the halls were rapidly shrinking in population already, high schoolers of all grade levels eager as hell to start their two-week breaks. The end of the first semester was finally here, and...let's just say it had been a long, treacherous battle to get this far. "Any big plans to look forward to?" He said.

"Nope. I'm going to be lazy and draw all day," I said.

"Not _all _day," Jace inquired, his signature smirk playing his lips.

"What do you mean?"

"You're hanging out with me of course," he scoffed.

"Am I?" I teased. "We'll have to see...don't you have football to get to?"

"Not today!" Jace exclaimed excitedly. "It's the end of the season, silly."

I slapped my hand to my forehead. Maybe I had prealzhimers, I _was _there for Jace's championship game and had witnessed the boys take home a massive trophy, which was now displayed for all to see. How had it slipped my mind, I didn't know. Jace had been extra cocky lately, his smirk never leaving his face, and the entire school had been giving him the red carpet-treatment.

But maybe I forgot because I had so much on my mind...

I put on a smile. "Right, sorry. What are you going to do with all of this extra energy?"

"I have no idea! Warden is still going to have off-season practices to keep us in shape, but I'm a free man this winter. And I'm coming over tonight to watch movies," he announced.

I was used to Jace inviting himself over and simply rolled my eyes. "You better bring popcorn."

"You get off of work at six right?"

I nodded.

"Good, I'll be over at 6:15," he informed me, just as we reached my locker.

"How––" I began to say when a new, familiar and missed voice interrupted.

"Jace, let's get going. Mom has my car and Alec already left. You need to drive Maia and me to our house."

Jace and I exchanged looks before my gaze settled on Isabelle, looking as glamorous and cruel as ever, and Maia, wearing a soft smile pointed at me. Isabelle crossed her arms over her chest as she returned my stare and her lips pressed together, settling into a stern scowl. This was the closest I had been to Isabelle in a long time. I wanted to hug her and just burst into giggles, as if nothing had ever happened. But Isabelle was certainly never letting whatever it is I had done to her go, and she had replaced me.

"Just wait by the car, Isabelle," Jace said, his expression unreadable.

Isabelle's attention snapped towards him and her expression intensified. "So you can flirt with your new girlfriend? Wow, Clary," she laughed harshly, "first _Simon _and now my brother? Since when did you become a slut?"

"_Isabelle_," Jace barked, stepping slightly in front of me. "Enough. Just go."_  
_

I pushed past Jace. "Simon?" I sputtered.

She rolled her dark eyes. "Oh don't try and act so innocent _Clary_," she hissed.

"_What are you talking about_?!_" _

Isabelle grabbed ahold of Maia's arm and began to pull her in the opposite direction. "Come on Maia. Let's go wait outside."

"Isabelle," I snapped, causing her to stop and turn around with a huff. "Simon and I _never _did anything. I would never go after him knowing that you liked him. That's not me, Isabelle, and even if you hate me now you know _me_. I would never stab you in the back. You're my best––" I swallowed heavily, "––were my best friend."

"You're such a liar!" she seethed, taking a few steps closer to me, forgetting Maia in an instant. "I _thought _I knew you, Clary. I thought that I could trust you, that you were telling the truth when you said you didn't have any feelings for Simon, but you _lied_."

I threw my hands up in the air in disbelief, anger and confusion overwhelming me. "What did I do!"

By now, the few students who were still here were watching our altercation very intently. I could feel their eyes, hungry with the desire for drama, glued on us, but I couldn't care less.

Her eyes narrowed, "You know exactly what you were doing behind my back Clary. Stop lying!"

"I didn't do anything––"

"I saw you!" she screeched.

I stayed steady on my feet despite wanting to take a few steps away from her. She was truly terrifying when she was angry. And she was furious. "Saw me doing what?"

She shook her head back and forth sharply. "You tried to do it in secret, but you didn't do a very good job...You were with Simon one morning and I was going to join you guys, but then he began to lead you away. When I reached you guys I found you _kissing _behind a vending machine!"

Her words hit me like a hammer. It all made sense now, but now _I_ was furious. I nodded forcefully, my jaw locked, and then I laughed in spite of myself. "You thought that I was dating Simon behind your back?"

"Well, yeah! You _lied _to me Clary––"

"Shut up Isabelle," I snapped, startling her. "You don't know anything! What you saw was _Simon_ kissing _me_. He caught me off guard! And if you would've stayed around for a few more seconds you would've seen me pushing him off of me."

She looked dumbstruck, her face once contorted with rage and confidence now blank. "I...how can I believe that?"

"Because I _was your best friend_! Do you not understand that? Best friends don't do that! _I _would never do that to you, Isabelle."

"Cl––"

"And instead of confronting me about it you completely avoided me! When I said that I didn't know what you were talking about, I meant it. But _you_, the girl who was supposed to always be there for me, didn't even think that you could be wrong. That what you saw was a mistake. That _I _wouldn't do something like that."

Suddenly she seemed uneasy and took a faltering step backwards, running a hand through her hair. She seemed to ponder my words, guilt overriding her features. "Oh Clary, I––"

"Do you know how hurt I was?" I said, feeling tears forming in my eyes. "Going to school one day, getting _kicked out _of my lunch table, and losing my two best friends? I told Simon, Isabelle, that I didn't have feelings for him. I told him that you were my best friend and I couldn't betray you...And now he hates me too."

"I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking. I just saw you guys and I...I lost it."

"I don't know if you are sorry," I seethed. "You seemed pretty happy seeing me miserable. These past few weeks have been awful, and I watched you watch me. You were _happy_. Did you enjoy seeing me like that?"

"No––no of course not. I just thought––"

"That I was a backstabbing bitch," I cut in sharply. "Now that I know what you were so mad at me for I can't believe that I was ever your friend."

She seemed genuinely hurt, and if I wasn't so hurt and upset myself I would've felt guilty. I turned towards Jace slightly and nodded. "I'll see you tonight." Then I pushed past Isabelle, ignoring both Jace and her calling after me, forgetting about the books I was supposed to put in my locker.

* * *

**Ohh. Oh. Hmm?**

**What do you guys think? **

**At least Isabelle knows the truth now...**

**REVIEW and please try and read my new story _Captured _if you get the chance(:**

**Until next time, peace.**


	17. Movie Night

**Okay, so being the dumb person I am, I messed up yet again. Last chapter was called 'The End of the Quarter', but I can't exactly change their schedules or have this story move along swimmingly unless it's the end of the semester.**

***Facepalm***

**SO, now chapter 16 is called 'The End of the Semester', and I'll be going back to change some minor details that may be misleading. Ugh. Sorry. Sorry.**

**Yo, like I said, I'm sorry.**

* * *

_Movie Night:_

**~Jace~**

Isabelle was extremely quiet, avoiding the looks I kept giving her in my rearview mirror, determined to keep staring out her window. I wanted to say so much to her, that she had no right to treat Clary the way she has been, that Clary has been through enough.

But I kept my lips set, my jaw locked, internally livid at my sister.

Clary has had possibly the worse childhood imaginable, has had to deal with the aftermath on a daily basis, and for awhile she's had to deal with it all on her own. Yes, I fess up to be a jerk to her in the past, but she had already forgiven me for that, and she's now one of my closest friends.

Even if Isabelle wasn't informed about everything, she still knew Clary for a good three years, enough to know what a good friend she was. To completely abandon a girl that was the last person on earth to deserve it...It was just plain wrong. Isabelle knew exactly what she was doing, and like Clary had said, she hadn't even confronted Clary about what she saw.

I almost felt bad for Maia, who sat to the right of Isabelle, trying to ignore the awkward silence and tension.

Because I had been hanging out with Clary so much, I hadn't really taken notice to Izzy's new BFF, and up until recently, when I saw her and Jordan making out, I hadn't realized that she was also Jordan's new girlfriend.

Maia was pretty, sharing Jordan's darker skin tone, but with amber eyes and a solution of brown, blond, and chestnut hair, even curlier than Clary's, that reached just below her shoulders. Every encounter we've shared she had been nothing but nice to me, and since she was Jordan whenever she wasn't with my sister, I had grown slightly accustomed to her.

"She should've told me," Isabelle said, almost inaudible, more a murmur to herself than anything.

I rolled my eyes, trying to swallow back what I really wanted to say to her. "You didn't give her much of a chance, Isabelle, with the way you've been treating her. Don't blame this on Clary."

Isabelle sat up straight in her seat and I could feel her glaring daggers at my head. "When did you and Clary become best buddies, huh?"

"When you and Simon stopped being there for her," I shot back.

"I thought you hated her."

"Well I don't, and stop trying to steer this away from you. Just own up to your mistake."

Isabelle scoffed and through my mirror I saw her roll her eyes. "You don't think I know that, Jace? I feel awful. I don't need _you_ to make me feel worse."

"I'm sorry if I'm trying to stick up for my_ friend_ like a real _friend_ would do," I said.

At this, she fell silent again, guilt subjugating her harsh features. After a while Maia leaned into Isabelle and whispered something into her ear. My sister let out a huff. "You can ask him yourself."

"Uh...Jace?" Maia said.

"Yeah?" I kept my voice friendly, knowing that she didn't have any part in this.

"Can you turn on the radio?"

"Yeah."

* * *

When I pulled into our driveway, I made a loop around the fountain and waited for the two girls to get out. When Isabelle saw that my car was still running and I didn't have any intention to get out, she opened up the passenger door. "Where are you going?"

"Picking up some things for tonight," I said curtly.

"You're hanging out with Clary?"

I nodded, refusing to look her in the eye.

I heard the door shut and watched Isabelle retreat inside, Maia following after her.

* * *

**~Clary~**

Upon getting home from work and walking up the steps to my apartment, I had no idea that Jace would already be there, considering Bill let me go home early and it was only 6 o'clock. But when I rounded the corner, sure enough, he was there with a bunch of bags in his hands, as if he had been shopping, and a stack of movies.

"Jace," I laughed, not able to help my smile, startling him a little. "What is all of this?"

"I'll show you inside. I'm dying here," he breathed.

I quickly pulled out my keys from my jacket and stuffed them into the lock, allowing the door to swing open wide enough for Jace to get through. I was actually overjoyed that I wouldn't have to be alone. It seemed as if every time I was alone now my mind would psych myself out and I'd scare the bejeezus out of me.

Jace made a beeline to the living room and placed everything down on the coffee table, releasing a loud sigh in relief. "That was so heavy."

I giggled and stood beside him. Jace pointed to all of the movies, giving me a smirk. "I know how much you love horror movies, so I found every one Mister Video had to offer."

I let out a little gasp, putting my arm around his lower torso. "You didn't have to do that," I said.

He gave me a little squeeze. "But I wanted to." Then he began to unveil the contents within the bags, making my smile grow embarrassingly large. "Here's another bag of salt water taffy––I know how low you were getting, Sour Patch Kids, Twizzlers, some Razzles, Rolos, and I stopped by Starbucks and picked you up a bag of French roast ground coffee."

"Jace!" I squealed, pulling him into a real hug. He had gone through all of this trouble just to make me feel better and my emotions were skyrocketing. _Isabelle who?_

He returned the hug with bone crushing force. "I know, I'm a great person and I'm beautiful. What more could you ask for?"

"Thank you so much!"

He chuckled slightly and I felt his chin on my head, nuzzling my face into his shirt. "You're welcome, Clary."

"I mean it. This is by far the sweetest thing anyone has done for me. Thank you."

"That's what friends are for, right?"

I pulled away and beamed up at him, his eyes so warm and his scent so intoxicating. Before I knew what I was doing, I was on my tiptoes and pressing my lips to his cheek. Afterwards I expected to feel embarrassed, for Jace to shove me off of him and run away, but he gave me another hug and I felt more comfortable than ever.

"You are so getting a pizza for this," I told him, making my way to the kitchen to dial up Dominos.

He flashed me a triumphant grin and flopped himself down on the couch. "You better order those little cinnamon things––oh and root beer!"

I laughed, rolling my eyes, an unfamiliar sensation in my stomach reminding me of butterflies fluttering their wings together.

* * *

I set a wad of cash in Jace's lap and began to make my way to my room. "Where are you going?" Jace called.

"I'm going to take a shower and get comfy."

"No," he whined. "You don't need a shower."

"Jace, I smell like dog, and if you haven't noticed I'm still wearing my uniform and it has hair all over it. I'll only be ten minutes. If the delivery guy gets here before I'm out just pay him with the money I gave you."

He crossed his arms over his chest in defiance, his face deadly serious, and I giggled. "You'll be fine."

* * *

Once I was all clean, I brushed out my long hair and pulled it back in a messy bun. If I didn't have company I wouldn't have gone through the trouble to look nice, but that was definitely not the case. _Jace was here._

I still couldn't believe that he was sitting right outside, here on his own behalf to enjoy a nice night with _me_. He was almost too good to be true. What friend, having known you officially for less than a month, has taken the time to learn all of your favorite movies, candies, and treats? I couldn't even begin to fathom how grateful I was to have a guy like Jace in my life.

He'd introduced me to new people, went out of his way to include me and make me feel comfortable, and most of all he's distracted me.

I dabbed some chap stick on my lips, making sure they shined, applied some perfume that I rarely used, made sure I smelled fresh countless times, and even pinched my cheeks to give myself more color, even though it hardly did anything to help.

It wasn't like I was going to go out there with heels and a dress, so I threw on an oversized sweatshirt, my favorite pair of sweats, and some fuzzy socks. The results made me look even more childish, but I looked clean and cute enough.

But why did I care so much? Jace, for the hundredth time, was. My. Friend.

I rolled my eyes at myself in the mirror and took a deep breath before opening the door to my room and stepping out into the hallway. The heat from the shower that had been locked within my bedroom bitterly vanished.

Surrounded by the delectable candy assortments Jace had bought––for me––was a box of pizza, unopened, sitting on the coffee table. Jace was exactly where I had left him, casually lying against the couch, not a care in the world.

"Hey," he said, sitting up a little.

"You could've had a piece while you were waiting," I said, gesturing to the pizza.

He shook his head. "Nah. It only arrived five minutes ago and I didn't want to eat without you."

_He hardly said anything, Clary, so why the hell are you blushing?_

"I'll get us some plates," I told him, hurriedly removing myself from his presence. I noticed that the cinnamon bites and root beer were both sitting on the island, and, being the sweet girl I was––ha ha––poured us both a glass and placed a few of the gooey, sweet pleasures on each of our plates before returning.

We ate, sharing comfortable laughs, and enjoying what seemed to be the beginning of a great night. When I reached for my third piece, Jace let out a sound in disbelief and I looked over him, my eyebrows raised. "See something funny?"

"How are you still eating?" he laughed.

I scoffed, narrowing my eyes. "Says the boy that's already eaten half of this thing."

"Hey," he said, putting of both of his hands, as if to surrender. "I'm a growing boy with a bottomless pit for a stomach, you on the other hand are five-feet and will never get any taller."

I slapped his shoulder with my free hand, stuffing a huge bite of pizza into my open mouth. "You don't know that! The doctor said I could grow at least another inch or so."

Jace gave me a knowing smile. "Whatever you say, freckles."

"What did you just call me?"

"Freckles?"

"Why?" I pressed.

"Clary's a nice name, it's fitting too, but _everyone_ calls you Clary. I want to be able to call something no one else can. I like 'Freckles'."

I sat back for a moment, contemplating on whether or not I felt honored or wanted to slap him upside the head with my remaining piece of pizza. I let out a huff and snuggled into my spot beside him. "Let's get this show on the road."

Jace picked up a large majority of the movies and we looked through them, setting the more promising ones aside and the others back on the table. "So, what do you think, Freckles? T––"

"You sound like you're talking to a dog."

He shot me another smile, completely ignoring me. "_The Hills Have Eyes_, _Poltergeist_, _The Grudge_, _One Missed Call_, _Mirrors_, _Shutter_…?"

It didn't really matter in the end because we ended up watching most of them anyways. Halfway through _One Missed Call_, Jace and I were snacking on some Rolos, having eaten the other selections like the beasts––when it came to food––we were. Normally I'd tone down my eating habits in front of a guy, but I couldn't care less, and Jace was just as bad.

"You know," Jace drawled out, amused, "it's a nice change to see a girl actually eating. Kaelie, whenever I take her out, will go for the salad and only eat a quarter of it, and get a water with lemon."

I shrugged. "What a waste of money."

Jace choked on his laugh, trying not kill himself on the root beer he was currently inhaling. I let myself smile, just a little, finding the mighty Jace Lightwood, completely uncomposed and out of character, quite amusing.

Jace took a few deep breaths and shook his head, still chuckling. And, if I thought this night couldn't get any better, I was right.

The phone began to ring.

"Don't worry," Jace said, getting up, "I'll get it."

I jumped to my feet after him, chasing him to the kitchen, whipping the phone away from him before he could reach it. He looked down at me a little startled. "Are you...expecting someone?"

I shook my head quickly, ending the call. "Let's just go back to the movie," I told him, avoiding having to answer any of his questions.

"Uh, yeah. Okay."

Before either of us could move, though, the phone began to ring again. My father hadn't tried to call us in over a week, I thought, even if it wasn't likely, that he might of finally given up on us. But I had been wrong. When I ended the call for the second time, I refused to look Jace in the eye, knowing how weird he probably thought I was acting.

I wanted to scream.

The phone was ringing again.

"Clary," Jace said sternly, "who is that?"

"N-no one. Just these stupid people from the bank."

"You're lying," he stated, easily seeing right through me.

I looked at him with wide eyes. "I am not."

"Yes you are. I know how you get when you lie."

I clamped my mouth together and did everything in my power to keep my hands from shaking. This time, as I said, "I'm not lying," I sounded much more steady, wanting to praise myself.

Jace snatched the phone out of my hands before I could even blink. "Hello, who is this?"

My mouth was agape and I narrowed my eyes at him, jumping as high as I could to get it back. "Hey. How's it going? Yeah I'm with her right now… Oh, okay. I'll tell her," he said, turning his back to me. I was livid and on the verge of crying. _Jace was talking to my father_! I sprang onto his back, causing Jace to jostle forward in surprise, failing to muffle his laughter. "You're going to be here in a few minutes, alright _Luke_!" Jace said, loud enough for my benefit.

I went slack against him, releasing the breath I had been holding. Jace and Luke had met a couple of times now, I should've known that Jace wouldn't of been acting so casual if it had been anyone else. Jace hung up the phone and began to walk, with me still on his back, towards the living room. "Your mom and Luke are on their way." His tone was light with amusement.

"Oh, okay."

"Freckles, you can get off my back now."

"Oh...yeah." Jace stopped in front of the couch and deposited me onto my spot before plopping down beside me.

"Who'd you think it was?"

"No one."

"Uh huh, sure Freckles."

* * *

After Luke had left, and my mom went to her room to go to bed, Jace and I resumed with our movie marathon, getting sleepier by the minute. Before I knew what was happening, I lost the battle to keep my eyes open and the screams coming from the TV ceased.

It felt like I had only been asleep for a couple of seconds before something was gently shaking me awake. "Clary… Come on Freckles. Clary. Time to get up."

I stifled a yawn, my eyes peeling open to see a dark atmosphere surrounding me and the blinding light of the movie still playing. I looked up to see Jace looking down at me, and that's when I realized that I was literally on his lap, having been completely out of it for who knows how long.

I sat up instantly, regrettably detaching myself from Jace's warm, comfortable embrace. "I-I'm sorry. How long was I out for?"

"About an hour," Jace chuckled lightly. "It was fine, really, but I think if I stayed any longer I'd fall asleep myself."

"Oh, what time is it?"

"It's one in the morning."

I was genuinely shocked. "Really?"

He nodded, standing up stiffly and holding his hands out for me. I took them, but released them just as fast. As soon as our fingers brushed against each other's, there was a shock, and not the kind you get when you drag your feet across the carpet and touch somebody, an entirely different sensation that I couldn't explain.

Judging by the look Jace gave me, he'd felt it too.

Either I was still sleeping, or that had really just happened.

I got up briskly, following him to the door. "Thanks for everything Jace," I said slowly, "you really made me feel better. I had a great time."

"Me too, Fairchild. We'll have to do it again sometime."

"Definitely."

Before he turned to walk out the door, I saw his eyes flash, the gold in them darkening, the mood completely changing. Suddenly his fingers were reaching towards me, not allowing me any chance to lean away. The back of his index finger brushed against my cheek, leaving a warm tingling in its wake, and then he was tucking a strand of my hair that had come undone behind my ear, letting his hand linger there for a few seconds.

"I had...fun. I'll text you tomorrow," he said breathlessly, as if he had just ran up a flight of stairs. He pulled away abruptly, shutting the door quietly behind him.

* * *

**Not much, but a little Clace(; Just hang in there. It will happen! Thanks so much for all of your amazing support. I really couldn't of gotten this far without all of your kind words.**

**Thanks so much!**

**Not trying to sound to demanding, but please review. **

**Until next time...**


	18. New Schedule, New Drama

_New Schedule, New Drama:_

**~Jace~**

Since I had started hanging out with Clary, I've been waking up with a smile on my face and a purpose. Winter break had been awesome, to say in the least, messing around with Jordan, getting to know Kaelie a little better, and hanging out with Clary every spare moment I had.

Sometimes I'd surprise her at work, sometimes her apartment, either way we'd joke around like we'd been best friends since we were in elementary school.

I was genuinely happy.

But now I had to go back to school...oh joy. It was 6:30 am, the sun hadn't even begun to rise yet, and I was out goofing off with the boys on my football team up until midnight. I was excited to get back to school, but a few more weeks off would've been glorious.

* * *

As soon as I got to school I smiled at the big, blue truck parked across from me, and the little redhead in the driver's seat. Clary was completely oblivious of me, looking down at what I assumed to be her phone. I walked over to her window and tapped on it, grinning at the response I received.

Clary jumped, holding her hand to her chest, looking up at me wide-eyed. She jerked the door open, causing me to stumble backwards. "Jace, you scared the hell out of me!"

I laughed. "Sorry, Freckles, I couldn't resist."

She rolled her eyes and hopped down from her seat, punching me in the arm before retrieving her backpack and shutting her door. We walked side by side across the parking lot, playfully shoving each other every few feet. "Excited for history?" I asked her, wiggling my eyebrows.

She shot me a look. "Yes. I'm _so _excited. Thanks for reminding me that our core classes don't change."

"Hey, at least you'll get to see me every day."

She smiled teasingly, scrunching up her nose. "I'm not so sure that's such a good thing."

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

"And three hours too early."

* * *

When the end of the day finally came and I only had one class left, I was actually happy to know that I had team sports. If I was going to have a PE class, I was glad that I wouldn't have to go the entire day sweaty and that I'd be able to go straight home right afterwards.

As soon as I got into the locker rooms I heard my name being shouted every which way. Jordan came plowing into me like a wrecking ball and a large portion of the football team came and patted me on the back. "Dude, you took team sports too?" Jordan exclaimed.

I shrugged. "I put it as an alternative."

He put his arm around my shoulders and lead me to the lockers we'd used during football. "I gotta warn you," Jordan said, "Sebastian Verlac and like five other dudes from the basketball team are in here."

"Great," I sighed, my happy-go-lucky attitude plummeting. I hadn't had a class with Verlac in over two years, and I was hoping that I wouldn't have to see his good for nothing face ever again, but I guess I wouldn't be that lucky. After what had happened with Clary, every time his name came up I wanted to punch something.

Jordan, after noticing my changed demeanor, gave me a shove. "Don't worry. I hear we're playing dodgeball today."

A smile spread across my face._ Verlac, you're going down._

Once I had dressed out, Jordan and I lead a group of guys out of lockers, strolling down the vacant hallway, towards the double doors that lead to the gym. Just before I was about to open the doors, however, a body was in front of me, shoving me backwards. Sebastian wrenched open the steel ingress, stalking in ahead of the rest of us.

Jordan and I exchanged looks before I shot daggers at the back of his stupid head. I was a quarter back, I practiced nearly every day; the imbecile had another thing coming if he thought that he could be an ass and get away with it. Before leaving today I wanted to make sure that I've sent him home with a couple of nasty bruises, but that was going to be hard considering the dodge balls the school allowed us to use were filled with foam...

I spotted Mr. Warden across the gym and I inwardly groaned. He was going to be our teacher this semester. I had almost forgotten.

He looked up, his shorts barely reaching mid thigh, a whistle around his stocky neck as usual. His face darkened as he ushered us towards him, intently looking down at his clipboard. He grumbled something under his breath upon looking over the roster and eyed his class. "Welcome back, Wayland, Kyle, boys," he acknowledged his team gruffly, as if we were friends, before turning his focus on everyone else. "For those of you freshmen that are new to this school and haven't met me, I'm Mr. Warden. I'll be your teacher this semester. You may know me as the head coach for football––"

The double doors opened, a chain of giggles following the group of entering girls, all dressed in identical uniforms. I singled out Isabelle, surprised to say in the least that I had a class with her. Though we lived in the same house, Isabelle and I had hardly talked to each other over break, pretending that neither one existed, ignoring each other completely when we saw the other in the kitchen or in the hallways.

Then I saw Aline, shooting her a smile that broadened when I saw who was walking next to her. _Clary_. Our eyes met and she returned the gesture, flashing me a look of surprise. "Come on ladies, let's get introductions over with," the Warden bellowed.

Clary weaved her way in between a few rows of guys to stand next to me, Aline still close to her side. "I have _another_ class with you?"

"You're a lukcy girl, Freckles," I laughed. "I thought you had this class last semester?"

She shrugged. "I did, but I needed another PE credit in order to graduate next year, so I decided to just take it again and get it over with."

"You better watch out," I told her jokingly, "I hear we're playing dodgeball today."

She paled.

The initial charge I'd experienced upon learning that not only Jordan was in this class, but Clary was also, simmered when I put two and two together. Isabelle stood with a different girl off to the side with blond hair, careful to keep her eyes abroad from us, which Clary had undoubtedly already noticed, and Sebastian stood across from us in the circle we had made around the Warden. And he was looking right at Clary, a small smirk in place.

I nudged Clary's side and she looked up, realizing her current predicament, immediately looking back down. I gave Sebastian a cold glare, which he didn't hesitate to return, warning him to back the hell off.

"Well this just got interesting..." I sighed.

The Warden cleared his throat. "I hope everyone had a nice break," he said, not at all sincere, "I for one did... I'm Mr. Warden––that's all you really need to know about me. As long as you participate and dress out, you'll receive full credit, so it shouldn't be too hard to pass this class. Today we'll be playing dodgeball," he announced, earning a mixture between cheers and groans. "Most of you know each other so I'll be needing two team captains."

Jordan shoved me forward and as soon as Sebastian saw this, he narrowed his eyes, and, of course volunteered himself.

"Great," the Warden exclaimed. "Wayland, you get first pick."

It was an easy decision. "Fairchild," I said, wanting to stick my tongue out at my opponent. I would've picked Clary anyways, it was just an added bonus that Sebastian couldn't choose her, which I knew he would've if he had the chance.

A muscle in Sebastian's jaw jumped as Clary took her place next to me. "Santiago," he barked out.

After I chose Jordan, I selected several of my other friends, Aline, and some of the other helpless looking girls that were remaining. Sebastian's team, having picked up a few of his teammates, and my sister, appeared to be pretty evenly matched. But that didn't really matter. I just wanted to hit _him _again, and again, and again.

Mr. Warden blew his whistle in approval. "Game on."

* * *

**~Clary~**

For a flipping _school _dodgeball match, it was extremely intense. The guys just went at each other, nailing and pelting their friends and enemies alike as hard as they could, getting kicks out getting other people out. The girls just tried to avoid getting smacked in face, positioning themselves as far away from the center of the court as possible.

Team sports was a class I thought I would be able to retake to get the credits I needed and have some mellow fun. When I saw that I'd be having it with Aline, Jace, and Jordan I was thrilled. But then I saw that my teacher was Mr. Warden. And then I saw Isabelle. And then I saw _Sebastian_.

Ugh.

Thanks a lot.

I currently had a ball in my hands, having no intention to throw it, Aline huddled into my side, shielding herself, amusedly watching as Jace and Sebastian hammered each other. I almost wished for Jace to hit Sebastian hard enough to knock him out.

I had no idea how dudes were capable of making foam balls hurt. But as long as I didn't get hit, it wasn't really an issue.

"So," Aline said, wincing slightly when a girl a few feet in front of us got hit in the stomach. "I'm throwing a back to school party on Friday. You and Kaelie should come over beforehand to get ready."

I rolled my eyes. "How many parties have you had this year?"

She giggled. "My dad just doesn't learn. So, you in?"

"Uh...I have to check with my boss, but yeah, sure."

Just then Jace launched a ball in the air and a resounded smack echoed throughout the gym, making everyone momentarily stop to witness Sebastian get needled in the face. Everyone on our side began to laugh, watching as Sebastian stalked towards the bleachers, but not before shooting Jace a deadly leer.

"_Ooh_," I grimaced.

"Sebastian looks pissed," Aline noted. "Jace better watch out when he gets back in."

Jace looked back at me with a triumphant grin and sent me a wink. _Wow, oh wow..._

Aline hit my shoulder, snapping me out of my creepy staring long after he turned around. "Don't look now, but Raphael Santiago––that Spanish hottie––is totally checking you out."

I looked in the direction that Aline was pointing at and, sure enough, met eyes with a gorgeous senior. Raphael Santiago, as Aline had put it, was totally hot. He had dark hair, olive skin, strong brows, and beautiful, brown eyes. I had talked to him a few times when I was still with Sebastian, for he was on the basketball team with him, but he'd always had a girlfriend and it was just to be friendly.

But he _was _looking at me.

He flashed me a breathtaking smile and I felt my cheeks set fire, looking away quickly. Aline began to squeal. "Clary, he's totally in to you!"

I placed my hand over her mouth desperately. "Be quiet!"

* * *

**~Jace~**

Once PE was over, and I changed into my clothes, I decided to wait for Clary since I normally met her at her locker anyways. However, as soon as she emerged from the lockers, before I could make a move towards her, there was already somebody there.

I watched as Clary looked up in surprise at Raphael Santiago. He gestured for her to follow him and they stepped off to the side, secluding themselves in the semi-empty hall. At first I was confused, but then it all clicked into place when I saw Clary beaming up at him, her eyes undoubtedly just as flirty as his were.

She was _beaming _at him.

Had she ever smiled at me like that?

"Woah, dude. You okay?" Jordan asked, appearing out of nowhere. I tore my eyes off of Clary and Raphael, acknowledging Jordan, realizing that my jaw was locked and my hands had curled themselves into fists. I felt an unpleasant buzzing run down my throat, scorching my insides and simmering deep in my gut. "Oh––what? Yeah. Yeah. I'm good."

Jordan released a chuckle. "I'd stay and talk, but I have to go meet Maia."

I gave him a nod and forced myself to smile. "See you tomorrow."

"Dude, you totally _nailed _Verlac."

"Yup."

Jordan feinted away from me, his dark eyes focusing in on me. "You sure you're alright?"

I nodded once again, stiff with dishonesty.

When Jordan was out of sight I felt a small hand touch my arm and I was involuntarily startled. Clary's eyes widened, a smile spreading across her features. "Did I scare you?"

"No," I said, sounding oddly flat.

"See, it's not so fun being the victim, is it?"

I let out a breathy laugh, absentmindedly rubbing the back of my neck. "What were you a Raphael talking about?"

Her smile expanded, exposing her white teeth, a small blush tainting her cheeks. "He just wanted my number."

"Did he?"

She nodded excitedly. "Mhmm. And he wants to hang out this weekend."

I should've seen something like this coming. Clary was manifestly pretty, surely other guys were going to be interested in her. But, for some reason, I had a festering distaste about that suddenly very real concept. I wanted her to be happy––of course I wanted her to be happy, but...

I just couldn't explain it.

It was probably because I felt the need to protect her. Yeah. That was it.

"I'm not so sure that's such a good idea," I told her, earning a frown. "I mean...he's a senior. He's way too old for you."

Clary scoffed, not buying it. "Jace, he's only a year older than me. It's not a big deal."

"You hardly know the guy," I countered.

"Isn't that why people hang out in the first place, to get to know each other?" she shot back.

"Look, all I'm saying is that you don't know if you can trust him. He could be dangerous––"

"_Jace_. He's a senior, not a criminal. And he's super sweet."

I released a frustrated sigh. "You don't _know _that, Clary."

She looked up at me in disbelief. "Yes I do!"

"No you don't!"

"Gah! We're just going to hang out, it's not a big deal!"

"Clary, I don't trust the guy."

She threw her hands up in the air. "_You_ don't _know _him either."

I didn't care if she was right, I was determined to keep her away from him. "Raphael is bad news Clary. Something about him rubs me the wrong way."

"Well," she swallowed. "You don't have to worry about it. _I_'m the one that's going to hang out with him. Not _you_."

"Clary, I'm not going to let you hang out with him."

"Excuse me?" she seethed.

Her eyes were so green and intense that I would've taken a step back if I wasn't so angry myself. I hated it when Clary was mad at me, and she hadn't been for a really long time, but she didn't have to be so stubborn. She didn't have to hang out with a guy that was older than her. She didn't have to be so careless.

"You heard me," I retorted, matching her glare.

"It's not your decision to make!" Her expression softened slightly. "I don't understand...you're my friend, Jace. You should want me to be happy––like I'm happy for you and Kaelie. There's nothing wrong with me hanging out with him, especially if it's just to get to know each other better."

"Clary...I know guys like him," I bit out. "They hit on naive girls that they know will fall for them. He's just using you."

She looked absolutely enraged. "So now I'm _easy_?"

"No––I didn't say that!"

"You just did!" she all but screamed, shoving her way past me.

I immediately reached out and grabbed ahold of her wrist, forcing her to face me. "Clary, I didn't mean it like that. I just don't want you to get hurt."

She wiped at her eyes and I realized that I had upset her, making my heart clench painfully. "Just leave me alone," she muffled, tugging out of my grasp. "I'll talk to you later."

"Clar––"

"I have to get to work."

And with that, she was walking away, leaving me all alone and feeling incredibly guilty.

* * *

**): First Jace and Clary fight in a while... **

**Hmm...Jealous Jace? **

**What do you guys think? Please review!**

**Until next time, peace.**


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